FHEDERiCK    WARDE 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


'V 


.^ 


4^-  ^ 


JOMH  M*CULL0U6H 


•Y  YEARS 


FIFTY  YEARS 

OF 
MAKE-BELIEVE 

BY  FREDERICK  WARDE 

Actor  of  Many  Parts,  and  Author  of 
"The  Fools  of  Shakespeare" 


'Words  spoken  are  but  air,  zvords  zvritten,  ink  and  paper" 

(Henry  Guy  Carleton.) 


PUBLISHED  BY 
THE  INTERNATIONAL  PRESS  SYNDICATE 

(MILFORD  M.  MARCY) 

TRIBUNE  BUILDING— NEW  YORK  CITY 
1920 


COPYRIGHT,   1920, 

BY  Frederick  Warde 

ALL  rights   reserved 


College 
Libraiy 

(-  *~    ^  / 

/  f^^ 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I  The  Attraction  of  the  Stage 9 

II  First  Appearance  as  an  Actor 21 

III  Experiences  in  a  Provincial  Stock  Company     .  34 

IV  Varied  Experiences  of  Good  and  Bad  Fortune  .  46 
V  Progress  and  Promotion .  59 

VI  Shakespearean  Ambitions.    American  in  Pros- 
pect         71 

VII  My  Arrival  and  First  Experiences  in  America   .  83 
VIII  A  Season  of  Important  Productions  and  Dis- 
tinguished Successes 96 

IX  I  Meet  Edwin  Booth,  America's  Greatest  Actor  .  109 

X  Tour  of  the  South  with  Edwin  Booth     ...  122 

XI  A  Return  to  Booth's  Theatre,  New  York     .     ,  136 

XII  The  Last  Days  of  Booth's  Theatre      ....  146 

XIII  First  Visit  to  California 159 

XIV  The  Warde-Barrymore  Diplomacy  Company    .  172 
XV  The  First  of  Many  Visits  to  Texas      ....  188 

XVI  First  Experience  as  a  "Star" 203 

XVII  I  Visit  Many  Places  and  Meet  Many  People       .  220 

XVIII  The  Genesis  of  the  Warde-James  Combination  236 

XIX  King  Lear 262 

XX  Renewed  Association  with  an  Old  Comrade      .  267 

XXI  The  Chautauqua  and  Lyceum  Platforms     .     .  282 

XXII  Close  of  the  Story 298 


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LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

1  Frederick  Warde Frontispiece 

Facing 
Page 

2  Samuel  Phelps  as  Cardinal  Wolsey 16 

3  Adelaide  Neilson 21 

4  John  McCuUough 28 

5  H.  J.  Montague  as  Capt.  Molyneux  in  "The  Shaugh- 

ran" 33 

6  Charlotte  Cushman 48 

7  George  Rignold  as  Henry  V 63 

8  Adelaide  Neilson  as  Juliet 60 

9  Edwin  Booth 65 

10  Edwin  Booth 80 

11  Frederick  Warde  as  lago 85 

12  Edwin  Booth  as  Richelieu 92 

13  E.  L.  Davenport  as  Brutus  in  "Julius  Csesar"     .     .  97 

14  Lawrence  Barrett 112 

15  Frederick  Warde  in  1876  as  the  Young  Englishman 

in  "Fifth  Avenue" 117 

16  Marie  Wainwright 124 

17  H.  J.  Montague 129 

18  H.  J.  Montague  and  His  New  York  Company  in  ] 

"Diplomacy"  Playing  in  San  Francisco      .     .     .  144 

19  Maurice  Barrymore 149 

20  John  McCullough  as  Othello 156 

21  Frederick  Warde  as  Brutus  in  "Julius  Csesar"     .     .  161 

22  Frederick  Warde  as  Hamlet 176 

y 


vi  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

23  LiUian  Russell 181 

24  Frederick  Warde  as  Prospero  in  "The  Tempest"      .  188 
26    Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers  as  the  Duchess  in  "Lady  Winde- 

mere's  Fan" 193 

26  Louis  James 208 

27  Louis  James  as  FalstafC 213 

28  Frederick  Warde  and  His  Son  Ernest  as  King  Lear 

and  His  Fool 220 

29  Ernest  Warde  as  the  Fool  in  "King  Lear"    .     .     .  241 

30  Louis  James  as  Calaban  in  "The  Tempest"       .     .  256 

31  Frederick  Warde  as  Timon  of  Athens       ....  273 

32  Frederick  Warde  as  Fray  Junipero  Serra,  Foimder  of 

the  Missions  in  the  "Mission  Play"      ....  288 


INTRODUCTION. 

Fifty  years?  Impossible!  Fifty  years  in  the 
*' world  of  make-believe,"  as  I  have  heard  it 
called.  But  it  is  not  a  world  of  make-believe,  this 
world  of  the  stage;  it  is  a  world  of  stern  reali- 
ties; a  world  of  work,  of  struggle,  effort,  study, 
gain,  loss,  failure  and  of  success.  A  human  world 
of  strength  and  of  weakness;  a  world  beautified  by 
imagination,  illuminated  by  fancy  and  glorified  by 
truth.  A  world  of  tender  sympathies,  generous 
thoughts  and  close  fellowship.  A  world  where  the 
seed  is  sown  in  youth,  nourished  in  manhood,  and 
harvested  in  maturity  in  sweet  recollections  and 
gentle  memories— nothing  more!  Yet  no  other 
world  can  furnish  such  a  wealth  of  compensation. 

Such  has  been  my  world,  and  as,  in  retrospect, 
I  look  back  over  the  bygone  years,  I  see  the  faces 
that  have  passed,  I  hear  the  voices  that  are  stilled, 
and  live  again  in  scenes  of  other  days,  some  bright 
with  hope  and  pleasure,  some  saddened  by  pain 
and  disappointment,  but  all  mellowed  by  the  ripen- 
ing hand  of  time  and  stored  away  in  the  chambers 
of  fondest  memory. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE- 
BELIEVE 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  Attraction  of  the  Stage. 

When  or  how  the  desire  to  become  an  actor  first 
took  possession  of  me  I  do  not  recall.  It  cer- 
tainly was  not  heredity,  either  by  taste  or  by  in- 
clination. My  father  was  a  country  schoolmaster, 
descended  from  a  long  line  of  English  yeomen, 
and  my  mother  came  from  the  same  rugged  stock. 

Our  home  was  in  the  comparatively  small  vil- 
lage of  Deddington  in  Oxfordshire,  one  of  the  mid- 
land counties  of  England,  and  there  I  was  bom  on 
the  23rd  of  February,  1851. 

My  father  died  when  I  was  quite  young  and  my 
mother  moved  to  Sussex,  a  southern  county  some 
distance  from  our  old  home,  but  where  our  asso- 
ciations and  environments  were  similar  to  those 
we  had  previously  enjoyed.  The  village  curate, 
the  doctor  and  the  lawyer,  were  our  friends  and 
neighbors;  and  our  life  that  of  a  quiet  country 
house,  where,  to  quote  the  words  of  Jerome  K. 
Jerome,  "The  whiff  and  whirl  of  the  busy  world 
sounded  far  off  and  faint." 


10     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

From  these  pleasant  surroundings,  I  was  sent, 
when  still  very  young,  to  the  "Shoreham  Protes- 
tant Grammar  School,"  where  I  was  a  resident 
scholar  for  three  years.  It  was  an  institution, 
with  about  one  hundred  pupils  of  ages  varying 
from  eight  to  eighteen  years.  Our  study  hall,  dor- 
mitories and  play  grounds  were  extensive,  our 
good  old  principal,  Doctor  Harper,  was  a  sound 
scholar,  a  genial  gentleman  and  a  conscientious 
preceptor. 

There  was  another  school  in  the  town,  a  Jesuit 
institution,  and  between  the  pupils  of  the  two 
schools  existed  a  bitter  rivalry.  They  were  known 
as  the  Puseys  (Puseyites) ,  we  as  the  Prots  (Prot- 
estants) .  Whenever  we  met  out  of  bounds  it  was 
our  duty  to  fight.  "Lick,  or  be  licked"  was  our 
school  cry,  and  we  lived  up  to  it. 

Of  course  such  a  condition  could  not  receive 
the  recognition  of  the  authorities  of  either  school, 
but  the  explanation  of  a  discolored  optic,  or  a 
swollen  lip  at  roll-call  or  prayers  usually  received 
but  slight  reproof. 

The  curriculum  of  the  juvenile  department  em- 
braced a  substantial  course  in  elementary  educa- 
tion—English and  a  rudimentary  course  of  the 
classics. 

The  only  recollection  I  have  of  any  dramatic 
literature  or  instruction,  was  a  single  visit  of  the 
Rev.  J.  M.  Bellew  (father  of  the  popular  actor,  the 
late  Mr.  Kyrle  Bellew) ,  who  gave  us  a  reading  of 
Shakespeare's  play  of  Henry  the  Fifth.  I  was 
too  young  at  the  time  to  appreciate  the  play  or. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     11 

the  skill  of  the  distin^ished  gentleman  in  pre- 
senting it;  but  I  distinctly  remember  being  greatly 
impressed  by  the  flowing  hair— that  looked  to  me 
like  waves  of  molten  silver— the  dignified  bearing 
and  the  clear  enunciation  of  the  reader. 

During  the  Christmas  holidays  of  my  last  year 
at  Shoreham  I  accompanied  my  mother  on  a  visit 
to  London,  and  during  that  visit  I  was  taken  by 
her  to  see  the  late  Charles  Kean's  production  of 
Hamlet,  at  the  Princess's  Theatre.  My  dear 
mother's  ideas  of  the  drama  were  vague,  and  her 
knowledge  of  the  theatre  limited.  She  thought 
that  any  play  in  a  theatre  would  be  of  interest 
and  entertainment  to  me,  and  I  recall  the  pleasur- 
able anticipation  of  several  days  between  the  pur- 
chase of  the  seats  and  the  evening's  performance. 
But  Hamlet, 'to  a  boy  ten  years  of  age,  is  hardly 
calculated  to  arouse  enthusiasm;  and  my  ideas  of 
the  drama  when  I  left  the  theatre  were  that  it 
consisted  of  long  speeches,  indiscriminate  assas- 
sinations and  funeral  processions. 

My  impressions  were  admirably  expressed  some 
years  later  by  a  Scotch  landlady  with  whom  I 
lodged  in  Glasgow.  I  had  obtained  for  her  a  pass 
to  see  the  late  Mr.  Samuel  Phelps  in  the  character 
of  Hamlet  at  the  Theatre  Royal.  The  following 
morning  as  she  was  serving  my  breakfast  I  in- 
quired: • 

"Well,  Mrs.  McFarland,  how  did  you  like  the 
play  last  night?" 

"Weel,  Mr.  Warde,"  replied  Mrs.  Mac,  "I 
lik-ed  the  play  verra  weel,  with  the  seengle  excep- 


12     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

tion  of  the  gentleman  in  black  (Hamlet) ,  who  went 
aboot  preechin'  ower  muckle." 

My  mother's  removal  to  London  as  a  permanent 
residence  shortly  after  my  first  visit  to  the  theatre 
took  me  there  also;  and  I  became  a  student  at  the 
City  of  London  School,  a  public  institution 
founded  by  King  Edward  VI,  and  controlled  by 
the  Lord  Mayor  and  the  corporation  of  the  city. 

Our  residence,  during  that  time,  was  in  Isling- 
ton, in  the  northern  part  of  the  town,  and  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre,  one  of 
the  oldest  playhouses  in  London;  and  to  it  I  be- 
came as  frequent  a  visitor  as  my  mother's  reluc- 
tantly given  consent  and  my  limited  pocket  money 
would  allow. 

At  Sadler's  Wells,  the  dressing  rooms  for  the 
actors  (as  I  discovered  by  personal  experience 
some  years  later)  were  on  an  upper  floor,  the  stair- 
case to  which  was  visible  from  the  windows  facing 
an  open  space  that  enclosed  the  theatre.  Many  an 
evening,  when  my  means  were  insufficient  to  pay 
for  admission  to  the  play,  I  have  stood  and  long- 
ingly watched  the  actors  in  their  costumes,  going 
up  and  coming  down  the  stairs  to  and  from  their 
dressing  rooms. 

During  this  period  Sadler's  Wells  was  under 
various  managements ;  notably  Mr.  Samuel  Phelps, 
the  great  tragedian,  one  of  the  last  survivors  of 
the  Macready  school,  and  perhaps  the  most  highly 
esteemed  Shakespearean  actor  of  his  time,  and 
whose  classic  revivals  marked  the  most  interesting 
period  in  the  history  of  the  English  theatre. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     13 

Among  Mr.  Phelps'  company  I  remember  Mr. 
Frederick  Robinson  as  a  handsome  and  dashing* 
young  actor,  and  whom  I  later  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  as  a  popular  member  of  the  company  of 
Lester  Wallack,  in  this  country.  Subsequently  he 
appeared  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre  as  Jim  the 
Penman  in  the  celebrated  drama  of  that  name. 

**The  Wells,"  as  the  theatre  was  popularly 
called,  was  managed  for  a  time  by  Miss  Catherine 
Lucette  and  Capt.  Morton  Price,  the  former  a 
beautiful  woman  and  a  very  accomplished  actress, 
and  the  latter  a  graceful,  romantic  actor.  In  their 
company  was  Mr.  Lewis  Ball,  a  comedian,  the  fun- 
niest man  I  had  ever  seen,  and  Miss  Emily  Dowton, 
a  charming  comedienne,  with  whom  I  fell  desper- 
ately in  love,  only  to  later  learn  that  she  was 
already  married  and  the  mother  of  a  considerable 
family. 

I  remained  at  school  until  I  was  fourteen  years 
of  age,  and  after  a  period  of  special  tuition  and 
study  to  prepare  for  my  preliminary  examination 
was  articled  to  a  firm  of  attorneys  in  East  India 
Chambers,  Leadenhall  street,  London,  to  study  the 
abstruse  science  and  practice  of  the  law. 

My  preceptor  or  principal  was  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman of  the  old  school,  learned,  experienced,  and 
a  strict  disciplinarian;  very  conservative  in  his 
ideas,  opposed  to  modem  innovations,  and  a  stick- 
ler for  the  etiquette  and  dignity  of  his  profession. 

He  never  used  a  steel  pen,  but  wrote  with  a 
goose  quill,  which  he  skilfully  fashioned  into  shape 
with  his  pocket  knife.    His  hair  was  bushy  and 


14     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

white,  with  the  exception  of  a  narrow  streak  over 
his  right  ear  where  he  wiped  the  point  of  his  pen; 
and  that  was  jet  black. 

All  of  our  documents,  drafts  and  briefs  were 
then  written  in  longhand  with  a  pen,  and  our  deeds 
were  engrossed  on  parchment. 

With  new  duties,  studies  and  attendance  at  the 
office  my  thoughts  were  diverted  for  a  time  from 
the  theatre  and  its  fascinations.  One  day,  by  the 
merest  accident,  I  picked  up  a  small  pamphlet 
published  in  the  interest  of  amateur  theatricals, 
and  found  an  advertisement  of  a  club  that  was 
being  formed  for  the  purpose  of  presenting  gen- 
teel comedies  and  burlesques,  and  I  joined.  Most 
of  the  members  were  clerks;  young  men  of  limited 
means,  like  myself.  The  female  parts  were  played 
by  professional  ladies,  especially  engaged.  I  dis- 
covered later  that  the  club  was  merely  a  financial 
enterprise  on  the  part  of  the  director,  who  was 
an  actor  of  no  especial  standing,  out  of  an  engage- 
ment. He  was  assisted  by  his  wife,  who  was  a 
burlesque  actress,  also  disengaged,  and  who  re- 
joiced in  the  pseudonym  of  Evangeline  De  Vere. 

As  a  consequence,  the  parts  in  the  plays  to  be 
presented  were  not  distributed  or  cast  according 
to  merit  or  ability,  but  the  member  of  the  club 
who  purchased  the  largest  number  of  tickets  for 
the  performance  was  given  the  choice  of  parts. 
A  generous  allowance  of  pocket  money  by  my 
mother  and  the  temporary  hypothecation  of  some 
luxuries  enabled  me  to  obtain  a  portion  of  this 
privilege,  for  another  fellow  bought  the  privilege 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE      15 

for  the  opening  comedy,  in  which  I  did  not  appear. 

The  piece  de  resistance  of  the  evening"  was  a 
burlesque  of  Ernani,  and  I  selected  the  part  of 
*'Scanipa,  a  scamp,"  that  in  a  professional  per- 
formance would  have  been  cast  to  the  leading  co- 
median. My  ability  as  a  dancer  was  limited  to  the 
waltz  and  quadrille  of  polite  society.  I  could  not 
sing,  and  I  had  no  knowledge  of  stage  business; 
so  the  effect  of  my  performance  can  be  better 
imagined  than  described. 

My  family  knew  nothing  of  my  membership  in 
this  dramatic  club,  nor  did  I  acquaint  them  with 
the  fact  of  my  forthcoming  debut  upon  the  stage, 
and  for  reasons  of  prudence  I  concealed  the  fact 
from  my  fellow  students  and  friends;  so  that  criti- 
cism of  my  maiden  effort  was  limited  to  my  asso- 
ciates in  the  club,  and  I  must  admit  that  the  con- 
sensus of  their  opinion  was  not  favorable.  How- 
ever, I  was  not  to  be  discouraged. 

The  manager  of  our  club  had  been  assisted  at 
rehearsals  by  an  old  actor  who  was  also  assistant 
prompter  at  the  Royalty  Theatre,  one  of  the  then 
popular  burlesque  theatres  of  London,  and  to  him 
I  confided  my  desire  to  appear  upon  the  real  stage. 
For  a  consideration  the  old  prompter  permitted 
me  to  go  on  as  a  supernumerary  in  the  burlesque 
of  Black-eyed  Susan,  which  was  then  in  the  height 
of  its  long  and  successful  run  at  the  "Little  House 
in  Soho,"  as  the  Royalty  Theatre  was  affection- 
ately termed. 

For  the  first  time  I  entered  the  stage  door  of  a 
regular  theatre.    The  dark  passage  to  the  stage, 


16     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

the  dimly  lighted  stage  itself,  with  a  few  ghostly 
figures  moving  about  setting  the  scenery,  the  plain, 
matter-of-fact  dressing  rooms,  and  then— the  bril- 
liancy of  the  stage,  the  lights  in  full,  the  perform- 
ance in  progress  and  the  audience  assembled!  It 
was  a  sensation  I  never  shall  forget.  In  the  first 
act  of  the  burlesque  I  appeared  as  a  marine  at 
the  window  of  Dame  Hatley's  cottage  and  pointed 
a  wooden  musket  at  the  hero.  In  the  second  I 
rose  to  the  rank  and  dignity  of  an  admiral  and 
sat  at  a  table  as  a  silent  member  of  a  court  martial. 

I  cannot  now  recall  all  the  members  of  that  com- 
pany, but  they  were  great  favorites  in  London  at 
that  time.  There  was  Miss  Patty  Oliver,  the  man- 
ager of  the  theatre,  the  chic  and  pretty  represen- 
tative of  *  'Susan  that  married  William" ;  Mr.  Fred 
Dewar,  the  original  of  the  part  of  Captain  Cross- 
tree,  afterward  so  successfully  played  by  our  own 
comedian  Mr.  Stuart  Robson  in  this  country,  and 
Mr.  E.  D.  Danvers  in  his  inimitable  performance 
of  Dame  Hatley. 

The  last  curtain  has  fallen  on  all  of  them  now, 
but  memory  pleasantly  lingers  with  the  first  real 
actors  I  ever  met,  heroes  of  my  youthful  enthusi- 
asm, popular  favorites  with  the  public  and  ear- 
nest, genial,  whole-souled  men  and  women  in  pri- 
vate life. 

My  experience  at  the  Royalty  Theatre  continued 
several  weeks,  unknown  to  my  family  or  to  my 
legal  preceptor.  My  hours  of  attendance  at  the 
office  were  from  ten  in  the  morning  until  six  in  the 
evening,  so  that  I  had  ample  time  to  get  to  the 


m^ 


Samuel  Phelps  as  Cardinal  Wolsey 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     17 

theatre  and  dress  for  the  after-piece.  But  my 
late  hours  began  to  attract  the  attention  of  my 
mother,  and  the  consequent  fatigue  and  lack  of 
interest  in  my  reading  and  study  called  forth  sev- 
eral well-merited  reproofs  from  my  principal. 

Giving  the  matter  what  I  then  conceived  to  be 
careful  consideration,  I  determined  to  sacrifice  my 
articles  of  indenture,  abandon  the  study  of  the 
law  and  adopt  the  stage  as  a  profession. 

Mr.  Danvers,  mentioned  above,  in  addition  ta 
being  the  comedian  of  the  Royalty  Theatre,  was  a 
dramatic  agent  as  well,  and  to  him  I  went  for 
advice  and  assistance.  He  warned  me  against  the 
dangers,  temptations  and  vicissitudes  of  an  actor's 
life;  but,  finding  that  I  was  persistent  in  my  de- 
termination, finally  consented  to  procure  a  place 
for  me.  It  was  then  early  in  August  and  com- 
panies were  being  engaged  for  the  winter  season 
at  the  provincial  theatres,  so  I  was  engaged  for 
the  stock  company  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  Sun- 
derland, to  play  **  General  Utility"  at  a  salary  of 
fifteen  shillings  per  week. 

To  avoid  having  to  make  an  explanation  of  the 
late  hours  I  was  compelled  to  keep  by  my  work 
at  the  Royalty  Theatre,  I  had  induced  my  mother 
to  consent  to  my  sharing  the  lodging  of  a  fellow 
student  in  a  distant  part  of  the  town,  and  I  was 
thus  enabled  to  make  my  preparations  and  leave 
London  without  her  knowledge. 

One  evening,  late  in  August,  I  drove  down  to 
the  Great  Northern  Railway  station  with  my  lug- 
gage, passing  my  home  on  the  way.    My  mother 


18     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

was  at  the  window.  She  could  not  see  me,  but  I 
saw  her,  and  for  a  moment  was  tempted  to  stop 
the  cab,  abandon  my  dramatic  ambitions  and  fol- 
low the  course  her  love  and  sacrifice  had  laid  out 
for  me;  but  the  opportunity  passed  and  I  went  on 
my  way. 

I  had  traveled  little,  the  journey  was  long  and 
tedious,  and  I  tried  to  sleep;  but  my  thoughts 
would  continually  revert  to  my  mother's  face  at 
the  window  and  the  gravity  of  the  step  I  was  tak- 
ing. I  was  barely  seventeen  years  old,  an  un- 
sophisticated, inexperienced  boy,  and  as  I  look 
back  now  over  fifty  years  of  time  I  am  amazed  at 
the  audacity  and  folly  of  that  act.  My  mother 
had  paid  a  large  amount  of  money,  which  she 
could  ill  afford,  to  the  firm  with  which  I  was  arti- 
cled; a  considerable  sum  for  books  and  examina- 
tion fees,  had  supplied  me  liberally  with  clothes 
and  pocket  money  for  years,  and  I  was  ungrate- 
fully throwing  it  all  away  to  enter  upon  a  life  and 
a  profession  of  which  I  knew  little  or  nothing  and 
which  stood  in  no  favor  in  my  native  land. 

Sunderland  was  and  is  today  a  small  seaport 
town  on  the  north  east  coast  of  England.  I  ar- 
rived in  the  early  morning.  I  was  a  complete 
stranger,  so  I  went  to  the  principal  hotel.  I  was 
received  with  the  obsequious  deference  character- 
istic of  English  hotel  servants  and  shown  to  my 
room  by  the  porter,  who  was  particularly  deferen- 
tial. 

The  greater  part  of  my  luggage  I  had  brought 
with  me  on  the  cab,  but  I  had  left  a  case  of  swords 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     19 

at  the  station.  On  mentioning  this  fact  to  the 
porter,  he  inquired  if  I  would  not  prefer  to  have 
them  sent  directly  to  the  barracks.  I  did  not 
understand  him  at  first,  but  finally  discovered 
that  he  thought  me  a  young  officer  of  the  army  as- 
signed to  the  local  garrison.  When  I  told  him 
I  was  an  actor,  about  to  join  the  company  at  the 
Lyceum  Theatre,  his  demeanor  changed,  and  I 
realized  that  my  chosen  profession  was  not  held  in 
high  esteem,  at  least  by  hotel  porters  in  the  north 
of  England. 

My  stay  at  the  hotel  was  brief  as  it  was  expen- 
sive and  I  found  lodgings  more  in  keeping  with  my 
limited  means,  and  went  to  the  theatre  to  the 
meeting  of  the  company  called  for  that  morning. 

I  approached  the  theatre,  a  presentable  looking 
building,  with  some  trepidation.  I  read  the  bills 
announcing  the  opening  with  interest,  and  was 
very  proud  when  I  found  my  own  name  (Mr.  F.  B. 
Warde)  among  the  list  of  the  company.  As  this 
was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen  my  name  in 
print  I  was  somewhat  elated.  I  forgot  my  trepi- 
dation and  sought  and  found  the  stage  door  with 
renewed  confidence. 

The  stage  doorkeeper  was  an  old  man  with  a 
ruddy  face,  full  of  humor  but  with  an  affectation 
of  severity.  I  learned  later  that  he  had  been  an 
actor,  had  met  with  an  accident,  lost  one  of  his 
hands,  which  had  been  replaced  by  a  steel  hook 
and  which  led  to  the  soubriquet  of  "Mat  the  Iron 
Hand." 

He  regarded  me  with  some  curiosity,  for  I  had 


20     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

dressed  myself  with  care  and  my  clothes  were 
fashionable  and  well  made— an  unusual  condition 
for  a  provincial  actor.  He  grinned  when  I  said  I 
was  an  actor,  but  admitted  me  when  I  gave  my 
name  with  both  initials  as  it  appeared  on  the  bill 
boards.  I  followed  a  dark  passage  which  ran  by 
the  side  of  the  theatre  and  entered  my  new  world! 
I  passed  with  some  hesitation  through  the  wings 
and  found  myself  on  the  stage,  as  a  professional 
actor,  for  the  first  time,  and  my  "world  of  make- 
believe'  '  opened  before  me. 


>       2f' 


Adelaide  Neilson 


CHAPTER  II. 
First  Appearance  as  an  Actor. 

The  company  was  assembled  on  the  stage,  stand- 
ing in  little  groups,  conversing,  greeting  old  ac- 
quaintances and  curiously  observing  their  new 
surroundings.  Finding  no  encouragement  to 
speak  to  any  of  them,  I  retired  into  the  compara- 
tive privacy  of  the  wings  and  awaited  develop- 
ments. 

The  front  of  the  house  was  like  a  dark  cavern, 
but  a  standing  pipe  with  a  cross  piece  of  gas  jets 
like  the  letter  T  was  attached  to  the  footlights, 
and  this  gave  a  fairly  good  light  on  the  stage  it- 
self. Near  this  pipe,  in  the  center,  was  a  table, 
which  I  subsequently  learned  was  called  the 
"Prompt  Table,"  and  was  as  sacred  as  a  shrine. 
No  one  but  the  manager,  stage  manager  or 
prompter  were  permitted  to  sit  there,  or  to  ap- 
proach it,  without  permission,  unless  for  very  im- 
portant business. 

Punctually  at  ten  o'clock,  the  manager,  Mr. 
Clarence  Holt,  his  wife,  son  and  daughter  came, 
upon  the  stage;  and  shortly  thereafter  the  promp- 
ter called:  "AH  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
company  to  the  front  of  the  stage,  please!" 

21 


22     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

The  company  gathered  in  a  semi-circle  at  the 
prompt  table  and  the  formal  business  of  the  sea- 
son begaji. 

Mr.  Holt  first  presented  Mrs.  Holt,  his  son  and 
daughter  to  the  assembled  company;  then  each 
member  to  the  other  until  we  had  all  been  intro- 
duced to  one  another.  The  stage  manager  was 
then  presented,  his  position  and  authority  defined 
with  a  request  that  we  at  all  times  follow  his 
directions  and  implicitly  obey  his  instructions. 
These  proceedings  were  conducted  with  extreme 
politeness  and  were  a  most  interesting  and  in- 
structive object  lesson  in  professional  courtesy. 

Clarence  Holt  was  a  serious  tragedian  of  the 
so-called  old  school,  a  type  made  familiar  to  thea- 
tre-goers by  the  late  E.  A.  Sothern  in  his  comedy, 
The  Crushed  Tragedian.  He  has  bushy,  black 
hair  and  a  heavy,  black  moustache  which  was  not 
permitted  to  attain  its  normal  length,  but  was 
clipped  short  that  it  might  not  impede  his  voice, 
which  was  exceedingly  sonorous  and  clear. 

At  rehearsal  and  during  the  performance,  in 
fact  at  all  times  in  the  theatre,  Mr.  Holt  was  very 
dignified;  but  outside  he  assumed  a  jaunty,  devil- 
may-care  manner  entirely  foreign  to  his  profes- 
sional self. 

This  was  particularly  indicated  by  the  way  in 
which  he  wore  his  hat,  a  tall,  white  one  with  a 
black  band.  In  the  theatre  it  was  worn  straight 
upon  his  head,  but  outside  it  was  cocked  at  an  an- 
gle that  seemed  to  say:  '  *I  may  be  a  tragedian  on 
the  stage,  but  I'm  a  devil  of  a  good  fellow  off  it." 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     23 

So  he  was.  He  had  traveled  much  and  his  for- 
tunes had  been  varied,  but  success  had  not  spoiled 
him  nor  adversity  soured  a  naturally  kind  heart 
and  buoyant  disposition. 

As  I  recall  his  work  he  acted  upon  conventional 
lines  with  more  than  average  intelligence,  was  at 
all  times  earnest  and  sincere  but  very  eccentric. 
If  any  noise  or  disturbance  occurred  in  the  front 
of  the  house  he  would  drop  his  character  and  ad- 
dress the  audience. 

One  evening  while  plajring  Cardinal  Richelieu, 
he  espied  a  man  in  the  gallery  smoking  a  pipe;  he 
immediately  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height 
and,  pointing  to  the  man,  exclaimed  in  his  natu- 
rally heavy  tragic  voice:  "Put  that  pipe  out,  sir; 
I  don't  allow  smoking  in  my  theatre."  Then  he 
resumed  the  bent  form  and  voice  of  the  old  French 
statesman." 

On  another  occasion,  Mr.  Holt  was  playing  Ham- 
let. Two  sailors  were  sitting  in  the  front  row  of 
the  Pit,  near  the  stage;  they  had  evidently  been 
drinking  heavily  and  had  fallen  asleep.  During 
the  delivery  of  the  famous  soliloquy  commencing: 
"To  be,  or  not  to  be,"  one  of  the  sailors  awoke 
and,  hearing  Mr.  Holt's  rather  monotonous  tones 
in  this  somewhat  lengthy  self-communion,  good- 
naturedly  suggested :  "  Oh !  sing  us  a  comic  song. 
Mr.  Holt  indignantly  answered:  *  'I  will  not,  sir! 
to  which  the  sailor  promptly  replied :  *  *  Then  go  to 
hell!"  and  resumed  his  slumber. 

To  return  to  the  managerial  family.  Mrs.  Holt, 
who  played  the  opposite  parts  to  her  husband,  was 


>> 


24     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

tall  and  angular.    She  moved  with  great  dignity 
and  took  life  and  herself  most  seriously. 

Miss  May  Holt  was  the  antithesis  of  her  mother, 
up  to  date,  young,  more  than  pretty  and  with 
advanced  ideas  on  the  conduct  of  woman.  She 
read  French  novels,  smoked  cigarettes  on  the  sly 
and  played  the  principal  * 'boy's  parts"  in  bur- 
lesque. 

Joe,  or  Bland  Holt,  her  brother,  was  a  young 
fellow  about  my  own  age,  and  like  myself  about 
to  make  his  debut  on  the  stage. 

The  company  were  men  and  women  of  diverse 
characteristics  and  ability,  but  all  earnest  and 
sincere  in  their  profession. 

In  those  days  the  old  system  of  lines  of  business 
was  strictly  adhered  to,  so  we  had  our  leading  man 
and  leading  lady,  the  juvenile  or  second  lady,  the 
first  and  second  chambermaids,  as  the  soubrettes 
were  then  called;  the  first  and  second  old  women 
and  several  utility  ladies.  In  addition  to  our  lead- 
ing man  we  had  a  juvenile  and  light  comedian,  a 
heavy  man,  first  and  second  low  comedians,  first 
and  second  old  men,  two  walking  gentlemen  and 
several  responsible  utility  men. 

From  this  it  will  be  seen  that,  with  the  addition 
of  the  manager  and  his  family,  we  were  numer- 
ically strong  enough  to  play  almost  any  tragedy, 
comedy  or  drama  that  might  be  selected. 

We  also  had  a  stage  manager  who  sometimes 
acted;  a  prompter,  a  call-boy  and  a  dancing  mas- 
ter, who  instructed  us  in  dancing  and  played 
Harlequin  in  the  Christmas  pantomime. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF,  MAKE-BELIEVE     25 

After  the  ceremony  of  introduction  Mr.  Holt 
informed  us  that  the  season  would  begin  on  Satur- 
day night  with  a  performance  of  Macbeth,  and 
that  on  Monday  a  new  version  of  Victor  Hugo's 
**Les  Miserables,"  adapted  by  himself  and  called 
"Out  of  Evil  Cometh  Good,"  would  be  produced. 
This  announcement  caused  considerable  interest 
among  the  company,  and  much  curious  inquiry 
each  to  the  other  as  to  the  characters  of  the  new 
play,  for  it  was  evident  the  distinguished  French 
author  and  novel  were  unknown  to  most  of  them. 

One  of  the  men,  a  rather  stout  young  fellow 
with  a  serious  face,  asked  me  if  I  knew  anything 
of  the  book.  I  acknowledged  that  I  had  read  it. 
The  statement  aroused  considerable  interest  in 
me,  and  several  of  the  company  questioned  me  as 
to  the  character  of  the  book  and  the  leading  parts 
in  it.  I  briefly  described  it  and  mentioned  the 
characters  of  Jean  Valjean,  Javert,  Cosette,  Fan- 
tine,  etc. 

A  mature  lady  in  a  poke  bonnet  and  with  much 
jewelry  eagerly  inquired:  *'Is  there  any  first  old 
woman  in  the  book?"  I  did  not  quite  understand 
this  question,  but  I  afterward  found  out  that  this 
lady,  to  whom  I  was  subsequently  indebted  for 
much  kindness  and  many  useful  suggestions,  held 
the  position  of  "First  Old  Woman"  in  the  com-, 
pany  and  that  her  anxiety  was  to  know  the  nature 
of  her  part,  if  any,  in  the  new  play,  to  find  out  if 
she  could  wear  her  stage  jewels  and  old  laces,  of 
which  she  possessed  quite  a  large  collection,  and 
which  she  wore  upon  all  possible  occasions. 


26     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

The  old  lady's  curiosity,  however,  was  silenced 
by  the  announcement  from  the  prompt  table  that 
we  would  at  once  proceed  to  rehearse  Macbeth, 
after  which  Mr.  Holt  would  read  the  new  play  to 
us  in  the  Green  Room. 

The  cast  of  Macbeth  was  then  read,  and  I  found 
myself  cast  for  the  part  of  the  second  murderer, 
the  part  of  the  first  murderer  being  allotted  to  Joe 
Holt,  the  manager's  son. 

I  learned  that  the  casting  of  a  standard  play 
was  a  mere  matter  of  form  to  the  principals  of 
the  company  who  knew  what  parts  would  be  as- 
signed to  them,  but  a  source  of  great  anxiety  to 
the  lesser  members,  and  not  infrequently  the  sub- 
ject of  disagreeable  discussions  with  the  manage- 
ment. 

On  the  present  occasion  the  young  man  who  was 
cast  for  the  part  of  the  Thane  of  Rosse  protested 
energetically  to  the  management  that  he  was  en- 
titled to  the  part  of  Malcolm.  The  management 
thought  otherwise  and  a  lively  colloquy  ensued. 
I  did  not  hear  the  beginning  of  the  argument,  but 
the  concluding  dialogue  ran  somewhat  as  follows: 

Manager:  You  play  the  part  of  Rosse! 
Actor :     I  do  not  play  Rosse. 
Manager:     Then  you  leave  the  company! 
Actor:    Then  I  do  play  Rosse! 

And  he  did. 

The  rehearsal  of  Macbeth  proceeded.  It  was 
another  new  experience  and  somewhat  of  a  revela- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     27 

tion.  Two  of  the  three  witches  were  played  by 
men,  the  first  old  man  and  the  first  comedian; 
only  the  third  witch  was  played  by  a  woman. 
All  of  the  principals  were  familiar  with  their  parts 
and  movements.  They  did  not  speak  their  lines, 
but  came  down  to  cues.  They  came  on  the  stage, 
crossed  and  re-crossed  each  other  as  the  business 
of  the  scene  demanded,  with  an  ease  and  confi- 
dence begotten  of  experience. 

Mr.  Holt  was,  of  course,  Macbeth,  but  he  had  lit- 
tle or  no  instruction  to  give  the  principals,  as  his 
business  and  movements  were  conventional  with 
the  traditions  of  the  part.  Mrs.  Holt,  however,  as 
Lady  Macbeth,  spoke  all  of  her  lines  and  carefully 
went  through  all  of  the  business  to  the  annoyance 
of  the  principals,  and  in  spite  of  the  somewhat  im- 
patient protests  of  Mr.  Holt,  who  was  anxious  to 
get  to  the  reading  of  the  new  play. 

Miss  May  Holt  played  the  part  of  Hecate,  and 
all  of  the  company,  without  exception,  went  on  in 
the  witch  scenes  and  sang  Locke's  music,  which 
was  always  used  in  the  play  in  those  days. 

The  time  for  my  entrance,  with  my  associate 
murderer,  came  at  last.  I  did  not  know  the  words, 
and  had  no  part,  so  I  was  handed  a  small  book 
with  a  dilapidated  paper  cover  and  told  to  read 
the  lines.  Being  horribly  nervous,  in  a  dim  im- 
perfect light,  I  must  have  made  sad  havoc  with 
the  text  of  Shakespeare,  with  which  I  must 
admit  I  was  not  familiar.  The  eye  and  ear  of 
every  member  of  the  company  seemed  to  be  con- 
centrated on  me.    The  stage  manager  was  some- 


28     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

what  impatient,  but  Mr.  Holt  was  kindly  indulgent 
and  assisted  me  to  stutter,  stammer  and  stag- 
ger through  the  lines  in  some  fashion,  and  I 
left  the  stage  feeling  myself  to  be  a  miserable 
failure.  I  was  shamed  and  humiliated  at  my  ap- 
parent ignorance  and  stupidity.  I  was  inclined  to 
run  out  of  the  stage  door  and  trust  to  luck  to  get 
back  home,  when  the  leading  man,  who  was  to  play 
Macduff,  came  over  to  me  and,  after  introducing 
himself  with  gentle  courtesy,  suggested  that  if  I 
pleased  he  would  read  the  part  over  for  me  and 
tell  me  what  to  do  in  the  scene.  His  manner  and 
speech  were  so  kindly  that  I  gratefully  accepted 
his  offer,  which  I  afterward  found  to  be  but  a 
single  instance  of  the  general  interest  and  instruc- 
tion which  not  only  he,  but  all  of  the  principals, 
gave  to  the  subordinate  members  of  the  company. 

My  second  and  only  other  scene  I  got  through 
better,  and  without  any  special  incident  the  re- 
hearsal came  to  an  end. 

We  then  adjourned  to  the  Green  Room,  where 
the  new  play  was  to  be  read  to  us.  This  proved  to 
be  a  very  solemn  proceeding. 

A  table  and  chairs  were  placed  in  one  corner 
of  the  room  for  Mr.  Holt  and  his  family,  and  other 
chairs  in  a  semi-circle  facing  them,  for  the  com- 
pany. It  was  the  first  time  I  had  attended  such  a 
function,  and  the  demeanor  of  the  reader  and  the 
company  interested  me  greatly.  Mr.  Holt  read 
with  the  pride  of  authorship,  especially  emphasiz- 
ing the  dramatic  points,  while  the  company  as- 
sumed an  attitude  of  critical  wisdom. 


John  McCullougb 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     29 

I  learned  later  on  that  the  paramount  interest 
of  the  company  was  not  in  the  play,  but  the  dra- 
matic value  of  the  characters  that  would  be  as- 
signed to  them. 

The  reading  done  and  the  author,  of  course,  con- 
gratulated, the  parts  were  distributed  with  more 
or  less  satisfaction  to  the  recipients  and  we  were 
dismissed  for  the  day. 

Before  leaving  London  I  had  been  induced  by 
an  old  actor  to  buy  his  wardrobe,  as  he  then  had 
no  use  for  it  and  needed  the  money.  He  had  en- 
larged upon  its  value  and  service  to  me  and,  as  I 
remember,  I  paid  him  five  pounds  for  it.  It  con- 
sisted of  several  pairs  of  worsted  tights  of  various 
colors,  some  shoes  and  boots  of  different  periods, 
a  few  wigs  and  several  fragments  of  costumes, 
all  considerably  worn  but  serviceable  still  if  ar- 
ranged with  ingenuity,  an  accomplishment  I  found 
to  be  possessed  by  most  of  the  actors  and  one 
which  I  speedily  found  it  necessary  to  acquire  my- 
self. 

All  costumes,  except  for  strictly  modem  plays, 
were  provided  by  the  management,  the  actor  fur- 
nishing only  his  tights,  shoes,  wigs,  linen,  laces, 
etc. 

The  wardrobe  at  Sunderland  was  owned  by  an 
old  Scotchman  who  traveled  with  it  as  stock  in 
trade  from  place  to  place,  and  engaged  himself  ta 
provide  the  costumes  for  the  theatre  for  a  season 
on  the  basis  of  a  weekly  salary. 

The  old  Scotchman,  I  think  his  name  was  Mc- 
Dougal— at  any  rate  he  was  very  proud  of  his 


30     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

name— spoke  with  a  strong  accent,  wore  a  Glen- 
garry cap  at  all  times  to  conceal  his  baldness,  and 
never  for  a  moment  permitted  you  to  forget  the 
distinction  of  his  name  and  nationality. 

He  had  studied  national  and  medieval  costumes, 
at  least  he  said  he  had.  He  also  said  that  he  had 
made  all  of  his  stock  in  trade  with  his  own  hands, 
a  fact  of  which  I  had  no  doubt,  for  most  of  his  pet 
dresses— and  he  had  his  pets— were  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  made.  He  was  very  religious,  could 
quote  Scripture,  didn't  smoke,  but  took  snuff  con- 
stantly, and  the  greatest  compliment  he  could  pay 
you  as  an  evidence  of  his  appreciation  was  a  pinch 
of  his  favorite  rappee. 

Before  warned  of  the  old  fellow's  character- 
istics, I  approached  him  with  deference  and  asked 
for  the  costume  of  the  second  murderer.  He 
looked  at  me  with  some  curiosity  and  said:  "Ye're 
a  pretty  frail  bit  of  a  body  to  play  sic  ana  part  as 
the  murderer.    Ye  should  be  a  mon  o*  maturity." 

This  was  rather  discouraging,  but  I  assured 
him  I  would  try  and  assume  those  conditions. 
He  then  told  me  I  would  have  to  bare  my  arms, 
and  asked  to  see  them.  I  took  off  my  coat  and 
rolled  up  my  sleeves,  when  he  exclaimed,  * 'Saints 
alive,  they're  naught  but  pipe  stems!" 

It  was  unfortunately  true,  but,  I  suggested  they 
might  be  concealed..  **Weel  a  weel,  I'll  aid  ye 
if  I  can,"  he  responded  and  selected  a  skirted 
garment  of  a  rough  brown  material  which  he 
called  a  shirt— and  a  shapeless  piece  of  cloth 
which  he  instructed  me  to  drape  at  my  back  like  a 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     31 

cloak.  He  also  gave  me  a  Scotch  bonnet.  I  was 
to  wear  a  pair  of  flesh-colored  tights  and  sandals 
with  cloth  or  braid  garterings  to  the  knee,  some- 
thing like  the  puttee  of  our  modern  soldier.  He 
also  furnished  me  with  a  gray  domino  and  hood, 
with  which  articles  I  was  to  cover  the  costume  to 
appear  as  a  witch. 

Thus  equipped,  I  awaited  with  increasing  anxi- 
ety and  nervousness  the  coming  of  the  eventful 
night.  I  was  letter  perfect  in  my  part,  but  I  kept 
repeating  it  until  the  words  seemed  to  be  engraved 
upon  my  mind. 

In  those  days,  in  England,  the  doors  of  the  thea- 
tre were  opened  at  half  past  six,  and  the  perform- 
ance began  at  7  o'clock.  I  went  to  the  theatre 
about  five  o'clock.  Mat,  the  old  stage  doorkeeper, 
laughed  as  I  came  in,  carrying  a  small  bundle  con- 
taining my  tights,  sandals,  etc.,  but  he  wished  me 
luck  as  I  passed  him  down  the  passage. 

The  dressing-room  was  a  long,  bare  room  with 
dressers  running  its  entire  length  on  both  sides. 
At  the  far  end  was  a  table  with  several  wash  bowls 
and  pitchers  of  water  and  beneath  the  table  sev- 
eral empty  pails.  A  number  of  stools  and  chairs 
of  various  conditions  were  arranged  in  front  of 
the  dressers,  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  hooks  was 
furnished  by  a  frame  running  down  the  center  of 
the  room.  The  whitewashed  walls  had  been  deco- 
rated by  faces  and  figures  drawn  with  burnt  cork 
and  colored  with  rouge;  some  of  these  remarkably 
well  done,  the  work  of  former  occupants  during 
their  waits. 


32     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

I  modestly  selected  a  remote  comer  and  pro- 
ceeded to  dress  for  my  part.  I  had  some  difficulty 
in  getting  into  my  tights  and  sandals,  particularly 
the  former,  which,  being  a  trifle  large  for  me, 
would  ruck  and  bag  on  my  limbs.  How- 
ever, I  succeeded  in  getting  the  costume  on,  and, 
with  the  addition  of  a  wired  beard  and  a  long- 
haired wig,  I  was  fully  dressed  and  equipped  by 
the  time  the  first  of  my  comrades  arrived.  He 
was  followed  shortly  by  others,  all  bringing  their 
bundles  or  baskets.  They  selected  their  dressing 
places  without  confusion,  the  younger  men  jdeld- 
ing  to  the  elder,  and  readily  rendering  assistance 
to  each  other  in  arranging  draperies  or  in  anj^ 
other  slight  service  that  might  be  required.  No 
mirrors  were  provided,  but  each  actor  furnished 
his  own  hand  glass  to  make  up,  and  when  fully 
dressed  went  downstairs  to  the  Green  Room,  where 
there  was  a  full  length  mirror,  to  survey  the  effect. 

I  followed  their  example,  and  for  the  first  time 
saw  myself  in  costume  and  make-up.  The  result 
was  somewhat  startling.  I  must  admit  I  had  little 
knowledge  of  archaeology  or  acquaintance  with 
murderers,  but  I  certainly  looked  capable  of  mur- 
dering anybody. 

The  call  boy  summoned  the  actors  for  the  first 
act,  and  with  last  glimpses  in  the  long  glass  they 
promptly  responded.  I  followed  to  the  stage  and 
found  myself  in  a  crowd  of  Scottish  Thanes  and 
soldiers  of  Macbeth 's  army,  and  barely  missed  a 
premature  appearance,  for  I  seemed  to  get  in 
everybody's  way  just  at  the  time  they  were  about 


H.  J.  Montague  as  Capt.  Molyneiix  in  "The  Shaughraun" 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     33 

to  make  their  entrances.  I  was  requested  to  move 
by  the  principals,  ordered  to  get  out  by  the  car- 
penters and  jostled  out  of  the  way  by  the  super- 
numeraries. 

Sadly,  I  returned  to  the  Green  Room,  where  I 
found  my  associate  murderer,  Joe  Holt.  He  had 
assisted  his  father  to  dress,  and  was  now  dressed 
himself.  I  looked  him  over  and  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  as  a  murderer  "he  had  nothing  on 
me." 


CHAPTER  III. 

Experiences  in  a  Provincial  Stock  Company. 

Joe  assumed  an  air  of  confidence  I  knew  he  did 
not  feel.  I  tried  to  put  on  a  bold  front,  but  it  was 
a  poor  attempt.  We  began  to  go  over  our  lines 
together  when  the  second  act  was  called— the  act 
in  which  Joe  and  I  were  to  appear. 

We  went  to  the  wings— the  act  progressed. 
Macbeth  dispatched  Seyton  to  summon  the  mur- 
derers. The  cue  was  given  and  Seyton  preceded 
us.  Joe  went  on,  and  some  one  gave  me  a  push  and 
I  was  on  the  scene  with  him,  before  the  audience! 
I  felt  a  chill  run  through  me,  my  knees  trembled, 
my  skin  broke  into  gooseflesh,  my  sight  seemed  to 
fade,  everything  before  me  was  black. 

The  lines  of  Macbeth  in  the  acting  version  are 
somewhat  curtailed  and  transposed  from  the  full 
text,  and  run  as  follows: 

Macbeth: 

"Are  you  so  gospell'd 

To  pray  for  this  good  man  and  for  his  issue, 
Whose  heavy  hand  hath  bow'd  you  to  the  grave 
And  beggar'd  yours  forever?" 
34 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     35 

First  Murderer: 
"I  am  one,  my  liege, 

Whom  the  vile  blows  and  buffets  of  the  world 
Have  so  incensed  that  I  am  reckless  what 
I  do  to  spite  the  world." 

Second  Murderer: 
"And  I  another 

So  weary  with  disasters,  tugg'd  with  fortTme, 
That  I  would  set  my  life  on  any  chance 
To  mend  it,  or  be  rid  on't." 

I  have  a  vague  remembrance  of  hearing  the  deep 
voice  of  Mr.  Holt,  as  Macbeth,  asking  us  the  above 
question,  and  of  Joe's  trembling  tones  in  reply: 

**I  am  one,  my  liege " 

and  there  he  stuck  dead. 

The  voice  of  Macbeth  rumbled  "Go  on!  go  on!" 
and  a  voice  from  the  wings,  "Speak,  Warde, 
speak." 

So,  I  spoke:  "And  I  another "  then  I  stuck 

dead. 

What  followed  is  not  very  clear  in  my  mind. 
Macbeth  seemed  to  say  in  an  angry  voice,  some- 
thing like  "Get  off  the  stage,  you  idiots!"  and  at 
the  same  time  the  prompter  from  the  wings 
shouted  "Come  off,  come  off!"  and  by  some  means 
or  another  we  got  off. 

I  looked  ruefully  at  Joe,  Joe  looked  at  me,  but 
our  feelings  were  too  deep  for  words.  However, 
Miss  May  Holt  (Hecate),  who  had  watched  the 
debut  of  her  brother  and  my  own  with  some  inter- 
est, broke  the  silence  and  said:  "Well,  I  have  seen 


36     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

a  good  many  murderers  in  my  time,  but  you  two 
are  the  worst  of  the  whole  lot." 
1  I  anticipated  nothing  less  than  immediate  dis- 
missal by  the  manager,  and  ridicule  from  the  com- 
pany, after  the  terrible  fiasco,  and  hurried  in 
shame  and  humiliation  to  the  dressing  room  to 
doff  my  costume  and  return  to  private  life.  But 
I  met  only  good  natured  laughter  and  encouraging 
words  from  the  company.  Even  Mr.  Holt,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  play,  smiled  and  said:  "Forget 
it,  my  boy,  you'll  do  better  next  time." 

On  the  following  Monday  we  produced  Mr. 
Holt's  version  of  Les  Miserables  and  played  it  a 
week,  a  long  run  for  a  town  like  Sunderland. 
Then  began  the  routine  of  the  season's  work. 
'  Visiting  stars  in  the  dramatic  firmament  came 
at  intervals,  real  stars,  men  and  women  who  had 
won  their  places  by  ability  and  achievement,  and 
who  were  supported  by  our  resident  company.  At 
other  times,  the  standard  dramas  and  London  suc- 
cesses were  played  by  the  company  without  a  star. 

Rehearsals  were  frequent  and  thorough,  but 
never  very  long.  The  leading  actors  knew  their 
business,  required  little  direction,  and  invariably 
gave  the  younger  members  of  the  company  the 
benefit  of  their  knowledge  and  experience,  and  we 
received  it  with  gratitude  and  appreciation. 

On  the  days  when  no  play  was  rehearsed,  the 
utility  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  called  and  the 
stage  manager  would  rehearse  them  in  a  series  of 
imaginary  situations.  For  instance,  he  would  or- 
der the  carpenters  to  set  a  chamber  scene,  with 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     37 

center  doors  and  doors  R.  and  L.,  and  the  property 
man  to  set  tables  and  chairs  upon  the  scene.  Then 
he  would  instruct  one  of  us  to  assume  the  part  of 
a  gentleman,  to  use  his  silk  hat,  light  overcoat, 
csine,  etc.,  another  to  act  as  a  servant,  and  one  of 
the  ladies  to  assume  the  character  of  hostess.  The 
footman  would  announce  the  gentleman,  the  gen- 
tleman would  hand  his  hat  and  coat  to  the  foot- 
man, the  lady  would  advance  to  receive  him,  they 
would  sit  down,  hold  an  imaginary  conversation, 
the  gentleman  would  rise,  take  his  leave,  the  serv- 
ant re-enter,  give  gentleman  his  hat  and  coat  and 
show  him  out. 

We  would  continue  for  two  hours  in  such  prac- 
tice, with  varying  incidents,  giving  us  an  ease  and 
knowledge  of  deportment  and  manners  in  polite  so- 
ciety. Another  morning  we  would  rehearse  strug- 
gles, seizures  and  arrests  and  the  stronger  action 
of  melodramas. 

I  cannot  remember  at  this  time  the  sequence  of 
our  visiting  stars,  but  I  recall  the  personalities  and 
performances  of  several  of  them,  notably,  Mr.  Sam- 
uel Phelps,  a  tragedian,  and  a  great  actor.  He  be- 
longed to  the  methodical  school  of  Macready,  his 
reading,  movement  and  business  being  studied  and 
precise;  nothing  left  to  chance  or  circumstance, 
but  worked  out  like  a  problem  in  Euclid. 

He  played  such  parts  as  Hamlet,  Macbeth, 
Wolsey,  Sir  Pertinax  MacSycophant,  etc.  Mr. 
Phelps  took  himself  seriously  and  never  lost  his 
dignity.  He  had  a  dresser  or  valet,  a  cockney, 
who  with  the  typical  humor  of  his  class  for  invert- 


38     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

ing  personalities,  used  to  call  his  master— of  whom 
he  stood  in  wholesome  awe— "Playful  Sam." 

Mr.  Phelps  was  rehearsing  Macbeth,  our  heavy 
leading  lady  rehearsing  the  part  of  Lady  Mac- 
beth. It  was  not  considered  good  form  to  act  at 
rehearsal,  there  being  an  old  sajdng,  "A  good  ac- 
tor at  rehearsal  is  a  bad  actor  at  night,"  but  our 
Lady  Macbeth,  desiring  to  make  a  good  impres- 
sion on  the  eminent  star,  acted  at  rehearsal  for 
all  she  was  worth.  In  the  banquet  scene  where 
Macbeth  sees  the  ghost  of  Banquo  at  the  table  and 
suggests  appropriate  terror.  Lady  Macbeth  fell 
on  her  knees  and  frantically  grasped  her  husband 
round  the  waist. 

Mr.  Phelps,  disconcerted  by  the  lady's  action, 
stopped  the  rehearsal  and  wounded  the  poor  lady 
to  the  quick  by  exclaiming:  "For  God's  sake, 
don't  claw  me  about  in  that  way,  madam."  The 
tragic  stars  were  sometimes  cruel  and  tyrannical 
in  those  days. 

Mr.  Phelps  would  never  rehearse  after  2  o'clock. 
His  irreverent  valet  asserted  with  a  strong  cock- 
ney accent:  "Playful  Sam  always  goes  to  his  gar- 
bage at  two,"  meaning  to  convey  the  information 
that  his  master,  Mr.  Samuel  Phelps,  always  took 
his  luncheon  at  that  hour. 

It  was  during  Mr.  Phelps's  engagement  I  re- 
ceived my  first  newspaper  notice.  I  have  lost  the 
clipping,  but  I  learned  the  words  by  heart  and  still 
remember  them.  The  play  was  Hamlet;  I  had 
played  Rosencrantz,  and  the  notice  was  as  follows: 

"Mr.  Warde  as  Rosencrantz  deserves  praise; 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     39 

despite  an  evident  nervousness,  he  spoke  his  lines 
clearly,  with  good  discretion  and  in  pure  educated 
English.  Let  this  gentleman,  who  is  very  young, 
study  hard,  observe  human  nature  closely  and  con- 
centrate his  mind  on  the  parts  allotted  to  him  in 
his  novitiate,  and  he  will  one  day  make  a  name  in 
the  profession  he  has  adopted." 

A  large  portion  of  my  salary  went  that  week  for 
copies  of  the  paper  and  in  postage  to  mail  them 
to  my  friends. 

Another  star  who  played  with  us  was  the  beau- 
tiful Adelaide  Neilson,  who  was  making  a  tour  of 
the  smaller  towns  in  the  provinces  before  her  Lon- 
don debut.  What  a  beautiful  woman  she  was  and 
already  a  fine  actress,  though  by  no  means  the 
great  artist  that  subsequently  fascinated  and  cap- 
tured the  hearts  of  two  continents.  She  had 
studied  under  a  grand  old  actor  named  John 
Ryder,  and  not  only  played  Juliet,  Rosalind  and 
other  great  Shakespearean  heroines,  but  also  ap- 
peared as  "Margery"  in  a  farce  called  "The 
Rough  Diamond." 

In  this  farce  she  had  a  very  rapid  change  of 
dress  from  a  lady  to  a  country  girl,  and  in  the 
latter  costume  had  to  re-enter  upon  the  stage,  and 
discover  another  lady  in  a  compromising  situation 
with  a  gentleman.  The  latter  was  on  his  knee  with 
his  lips  on  the  lady's  hand,  exclaiming:  "For  the 
last  time  I  kiss  your  hand." 

The  lady  and  gentleman  were  in  position,  the 
cue  was  given,  but  no  Margery  appeared.    A  sec- 


40     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

ond  time  the  cue  was  given;  no  Margery.  And 
again,  for  the  third  time,  the  gentleman  spoke. 

I  was  playing  a  footman,  and  thinking  the  gen- 
tleman had  forgotten  his  line,  threw  it  to  him  from 
the  wings,  when  he  turned  to  me,  and  said:  "I 
have  kissed  the  lady's  hand  three  times.  I  don't 
propose  to  kiss  it  again." 

Margery  finally  appeared  and  the  farce  pro- 
ceeded to  its  conclusion. 

Miss  Lydia  Thompson,  the  burlesque  actress, 
played  a  week  with  us  in  several  light  or  genteel 
comedies  in  which  she  sang  several  songs.  She 
was  another  beautiful  woman,  with  a  very  sweet 
voice. 

In  one  of  the  comedies,  I  think  it  was  "The  Lit- 
tle Treasure,"  one  or  two  songs  were  interpolated. 
Miss  Thompson  gave  the  cue  for  the  leader  of 
the  orchestra  to  play  the  prelude  to  her  accompani- 
ment, but  that  gentleman  was  fast  asleep  on  his 
seat.  She  gave  the  cue  a  second  time  in  a  louder 
tone,  and  one  or  two  of  the  orchestra  tried  to 
arouse  their  leader,  but  without  success. 

Miss  Thompson  became  very  angry  and,  taking 
a  good-sized  book  from  a  table  near  her,  flung 
it  with  such  accurate  aim  that  it  struck  the  leader 
fairly  on  the  side  of  the  head  and  knocked  him  off 
his  seat.  The  poor  man  hastily  retired  amid  the 
laughter  of  the  audience,  while  the  repetiteur  took 
up  the  accompaniment  and  Miss  Thompson  sang 
her  song  to  the  delight  and  applause  of  the  house. 

Several  other  stars  came  to  us  during  the  Fall, 
including  the  American  actor,  George  Fawcett 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     41 

Rowe,  who  appeared  in  a  really  marvelous  per- 
formance of  Wilkins  Micawber  in  a  dramatization 
of  Charles  Dickens'  novel  of  David  Copperfield 
called  ''Little  Em'ly." 

So  the  season  progressed,  and  from  my  brief 
enumeration  of  the  number  and  variety  of  the 
plays  produced  it  may  readily  be  seen  what  a 
splendid  experience  it  was  for  a  young  actor  and 
what  a  solid  foundation  it  laid  for  future  study 
and  work. 

As  a  body  the  men  and  women  of  the  company 
were  not  of  especial  culture,  but  they  were  all  of 
a  kindly  disposition.  Their  experiences  of  life 
and  familiarity  with  dramatic  literature  had  been 
an  education,  and  the  strict  observance  of  profes- 
sional etiquette  and  politeness,  which  was  an  inex- 
orable rule  in  the  theatre,  and  the  necessary  train- 
ing for  deportment  and  elegance  in  the  comedies 
of  manners— which  were  then  very  popular— gave 
them  an  air  of  good  breeding  and  a  cordial  good 
fellowship  existed  between  them.  At  that  time 
stock  actors  had  little  or  no  social  standing,  so  we 
were  dependent  upon  ourselves  for  social  enter- 
tainment. 

We  lived  in  lodgings.  We  gave  only  six  per- 
formances a  week.  There  were  no  matinees,  or 
"morning  performances"  as  we  call  them,  nor  did 
we  play  or  rehearse  on  Sundays;  so  we  had  con- 
siderable leisure  to  visit  and  enjoy  many  social 
hours  together.  Thus  we  became  familiar  with 
and  interested  in  each  other's  personal  and  domes- 
tic affairs.    Little  teas  and  suppers  were  very 


42     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

pleasant  and  interesting  gatherings,  filled  witH 
stories,  anecdotes  and  experiences— to  me,  a  neo- 
phyte, they  were  a  revelation  of  the  joys,  sorrows 
and  vicissitudes  of  an  actor's  life. 

I  do  not  think  many  of  them  knew  the  meaning 
or  significance  of  philosophy,  but  with  what  a 
philosophic  resignation  they  regarded  their  vary- 
ing fortunes!  They  might  all  have  indorsed 
Hamlet's  assertion:  "There's  nothing  good  or  bad, 
but  thinking  makes  it  so."  They  accepted  their 
successes  as  a  matter  of  course  and  endured  their 
misfortunes  without  complaint. 

I  have  heard  much  at  times  of  the  jealousy 
among  players  and  great  artists.  I  have  known 
many,  but  observed  very  little  feeling  of  that  sort 
among  the  players.  On  the  contrary,  I  have  found 
the  most  generous  spirit  of  appreciation  and  mu- 
tual assistance  among  them.  At  Sunderland  they 
were  always  ready  to  give  a  comrade  points  and 
business  in  a  part  with  which  they  were  familiar 
and  to  lend  him  properties  and  articles  of  ward- 
robe that  might  be  of  advantage  to  his  appearance. 

The  wardrobe  of  an  actor  or  actress  was  not  as 
elaborate  as  it  is  today,  nor  were  we  quite  as 
archaeologically  correct  in  our  costumes  as  now. 
As  I  have  said,  the  main  wardrobe  was  provided 
for  the  gentlemen,  but  the  ladies  provided  their 
own,  and  though  it  might  have  been  limited,  an  ex- 
perienced actress  could  make  it  very  effective  by 
clever  management. 

The  principal  and  most  prized  possession  of  a 
heavy  leading  lady  was  a  dress  of  black  velvet. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     43 

This  was  worn,  with  slight  variations  and  the 
addition  of  many  jewels,  for  Queens,  Dowagers, 
etc.  The  juvenile  lady's  pride  was  her  white  satin 
dress  that  served  for  most  of  the  classic  heroines, 
while  a  simple  white  muslin  with  different  colored 
sashes  and  ribbons  was  very  effective  for  modern 
young  ladies;  and  a  gray  or  black  dress  for  the 
poor  and  persecuted  ones. 

The  soubrette,  or  chambermaid,  usually  had  a 
variety  of  short  cotton  dresses  for  servants,  and 
neat  little  tuck-ups  for  the  merrie  mountain  maids 
and  pert  little  characters  in  comedietta  and  farce. 

The  diflBculty  with  the  men  seemed  to  be  with 
the  modem  wardrobe,  especially  when  full  evening 
dress  was  required,  and  I  have  seen  many  ingeni- 
ous devices  used  to  make  a  presentable  appearance 
as  a  debonair  man  of  fashion  by  an  actor  whose 
sartorial  possessions  were  limited. 

I  especially  recall  the  device  of  one  ingenious 
gentleman,  who,  having  no  white  shirt  available 
for  his  full  dress,  took  a  large  sheet  of  white  paper, 
drew  a  few  lines  down  it  with  a  pencil  to  represent 
the  plaits,  stuck  three  small  pieces  of  gilt  paper 
down  the  front  for  the  studs,  and  really  made  a 
most  creditable  appearance  as  a  well-dressed  gen- 
tleman. 

On  another  occasion,  the  same  actor,  requiring 
a  pair  of  epaulettes  for  a  military  costume,  pro- 
cured some  tinfoil  for  the  base  and  some  gUt  paper 
for  the  fringe,  and  with  it  cleverly  attached  to  his 
shoulders  was  fully  equipped  in  martial  array.  I 
have  often,  myself,  sewed  a  gold  stripe  down  the 


44     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

sides  of  my  evening  dress  trousers  and  with  some 
frogs  of  cord  pinned  on  my  Prince  Albert  coat 
made  a  fair  looking  young  officer  in  undress  uni- 
form. 

I  enjoyed  the  possession  of  a  dark  plum-colored 
velvet  jacket,  quite  a  distingue  and  fashionable 
garment  at  that  period.  It  was  the  envy  of  the  en- 
tire company.  I  had  little  opportunity  to  wear  it 
myself  for  the  unimportant  parts  I  played,  but 
before  the  season  was  very  old  it  had  been  worn 
by  nearly  every  male  member  for  one  paPt  or 
another  until  the  management  finally  requeb^ed  me 
"to  withdraw  it  from  circulation." 

At  length  it  became  time  to  prepare  for  the 
Christmas  pantomime,  the  most  important  produc- 
tion of  the  season.  The  carpenters,  scenic  artists 
and  costumers  were  busy  with  their  preparations 
of  the  mechanical  devices,  scenery  and  dresses, 
which  were  to  be  very  elaborate;  the  company  re- 
hearsing the  lines  and  business;  the  ballet  prepar- 
ing their  dances  and  the  pantomimists  their  tricks. 
It  was  indeed  a  busy  time. 

The  Christmas  pantomime  has  never  been  popu- 
lar in  this  country,  but  is  an  established  institu- 
tion in  English  theatres,  or  at  least  it  was  at  that 
time. 

It  consisted  of  a  burlesque  opening,  founded  on 
a  fancy  of  fairyland  or  Mother  Goose  stories,  fol- 
lowed by  a  very  elaborate  transformation  scene 
with  elaborate  mechanical  effects  and  concluding 
with  a  harlequinade  in  which  the  clown,  panta- 
loon, harlequin  and  columbine  frolicked  in  prac- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     45 

tical  fun.  It  was  the  joy  of  the  children  as  well  as 
of  their  elders,  who  forgot  the  cares  and  anxieties 
of  life  in  the  riot  of  exuberant  fancy  and  nonsense. 

I  played  the  policeman  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  production  and  was  the  victim  of  all  of  the 
merry  clown's  tricks.  To  steal  and  belabor  the 
poor  "Bobby"  with  his  own  club,  which  at  first 
was  a  harmless  cylinder  of  canvas  stuffed  with 
straw,  but  which  from  constant  use,  became  as 
hard  as  the  real  thing,  was  the  clown's  favorite 
pastime,  and  by  the  time  the  pantomime  had  run 
its  course  I  was  nearly  black  and  blue  all  over 
from  the  drubbings  I  had  nightly  received  at  his 
hands.  A  pantomime  ran  for  several  weeks  suc- 
cessfully, and  we  then  resumed  the  routine  of  the 
earlier  season's  work. 

About  the  middle  of  March  we  were  disagree- 
ably surprised  by  a  notice  from  the  management 
that  the  season  would  close  at  once.  This  was 
a  very  serious  matter  to  many  of  the  company  who 
had  reasonably  anticipated  that  their  engage- 
ments would  continue  until  the  end  of  May,  which 
was  the  usual  time  for  terminating  a  season;  but 
domestic  differences  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Holt 
brought  a  premature  finish  to  their  management  of 
the  theatre. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
Varied  Experiences  of  Good  and  Bad  Fortune. 

Mr.  Hudspeth  and  Mr.  Loom  were  respectively 
the  first  comedian  and  the  first  old  man  of  the 
company,  and  the  prospect  of  a  long  interval  of 
unemployment  by  the  unforeseen  closing  of  the 
season  at  Sunderland  meant  serious  embarrass- 
ment for  them.  They  decided  to  try  a  Spring  and 
Summer  season  with  a  "Fit-up,"  and  a  small 
company  of  players  who  were  willing  to  risk  a 
chance  of  remuneration,  to  give  comediettas  and 
farces  in  the  small  towns  of  Durham  and  North- 
umberland. I  was  engaged  to  join  them  at  a 
prospective  salary  of  eighteen  shillings  per  week. 

Our  "Fit-up"  was  a  framework  to  serve  as  a 
proscenium  from  which  lateral  and  cross  pieces 
of  wood,  strongly  supported,  were  built,  on  which 
we  hung  our  drops  and  worked  our  wings.  The 
drops  and  wings  were  painted  on  both  sides,  one 
interior  the  other  exterior,  and  were  easily  turned 
as  occasion  required.  The  frame  of  the  prosce- 
nium was  covered  with  attractive  wallpaper  and 
we  could  usually  make  a  gas  attachment  for  foot- 
lights. The  "Fit-up"  was  of  simple  construction, 
and  could  readily  be  put  up  in  a  small  hall  or 

46 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     47 

assembly-room,  and  when  completed  made  a  very 
pretty  and  effective  setting  as  a  theatre. 

Our  first  stand  was  in  the  Town  Hall  at  Mor- 
peth, little  more  than  a  village.  The  main  diffi- 
culty was  to  obtain  lodgings,  the  local  people  hav- 
ing little  confidence  in  or  respect  for  play-actors; 
but  we  were  finally  located. 

We  gave  several  performances  to  very  small 
houses  and  then  moved  to  Berwick-on-Tweed,  a 
somewhat  larger  and  more  important  town. 
There  we  erected  our  ** Fit-up"  in  the  assembly 
room  of  the  principal  inn.  It  was  one  of  those 
English  inns  that  Dickens  describes  so  delight- 
fully. You  entered  a  courtyard  through  a  large 
stone  arch.  The  assembly  room  was  built  in  the 
rear  at  right  angles  with  the  main  building, 
across  and  above  the  court-yard.  It  was  in  this 
room  that  the  quarter  sessions,  assizes  and  public 
meetings  were  held. 

We  hired  lumber  to  build  the  platform,  which 
was  to  serve  for  our  stage  and  erected  our  fit-up 
on  the  top  of  it.  We  opened  to  a  rather  encourag- 
ing house,  and  the  management  gave  each  of  us  a 
few  shillings  on  account  of  our  salaries,  which, 
up  to  this  time,  had  not  been  paid.  In  the  interim 
I  had  parted  with  my  watch,  scarf  pin  and  finger 
ring  as  collateral  to  meet  current  expenses  and 
aid  my  less  fortunate  comrades. 

The  Berwick  public,  however,  did  not  continue 
its  patronage  and  our  business  was  very  bad  in- 
deed. The  management  then  decided  to  make  an 
extra  effort  to  attract  the  public  and  announced  a 


48     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

special  performance  of  "The  Colleen  Bawn,'*  a 
very  popular  Irish  play,  and  procured  some  pic- 
torial printing  to  advertise  it. 

Our  scenery  was  adequate  to  the  play  with  the 
exception  of  a  cave  supposed  to  be  located  on  the 
Irish  coast.  This  cave  should  have  a  practical 
rock  in  the  center,  surrounded  by  water.  For  the 
scene  itself  and  the  wings,  we  procured  some  large 
sheets  of  heavy  brown  paper,  glued  them  together, 
cutting  out  the  cave  arch,  and  with  some  black 
and  green  paint  coloring  the  paper  to  look  like 
rocks,  and  then  cut  out  the  cave  arch. 

For  the  water  we  stretched  strips  of  blue  tarle- 
ton  across  the  scene  on  strings.  The  difficulty 
was  with  the  rock  for  the  center,  from  which  the 
villain,  Danny  Mann,  was  to  push  Eily  O'Connor, 
the  heroine,  into  the  water.  At  last  the  difficulty 
was  solved.  My  large  wicker  basket,  in  which  I 
carried  my  costumes,  was  to  be  covered  with  brown 
paper,  painted,  and  serve  as  the  rock. 

We  had  secured  the  patronage  of  the  com- 
mander and  officers  of  the  county  militia,  then  in 
training  at  Berwick,  and  had  quite  a  good  house. 
The  play  proceeded  very  well  until  we  came  to  the 
cave  scene,  which  looked  real  and  received 
some  applause.  But  we  had  no  boat;  in  fact,  with 
our  limited  accommodations  we  had  no  room  for 
a  boat.  There  was  no  help  for  it,  and  Danny  and 
Eily  walked  through  the  water  to  the  scene  of  the 
dramatic  event. 

This  created  some  amusement,  but  it  was  noth- 
ing to  what  followed.    Danny  and  Eily  climbed 


Charlotte  Cushman 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     49 

upon  the  "rock,"  but  the  weight  of  two  persons 
was  too  much  for  the  lid  of  the  basket,  which 
promptly  gave  way,  and  Danny  and  Eily  sank 
knee  deep  into  my  wardrobe.  The  more  they 
struggled  the  deeper  they  got  and  the  more  en- 
tangled in  my  clothes.  They  tried  to  speak  the 
dialogue  of  the  scene,  but  they  could  not  hold  their 
footing,  and  constantly  fell  against  each  other. 
Finally,  with  Danny's  assistance,  Eily  scrambled 
out  of  the  basket  and  fell  in  the  water,  and  Danny 
fell  in  after  her. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  audience,  who  howled 
with  laughter,  and  though  we  earnestly  tried  to 
interest  them  in  the  concluding  scenes  of  the  play,^ 
our  production  of  "The  Colleen  Bawn"  ended 
ignominiously. 

The  news  of  our  mishap  spread  quickly  and  the 
ridicule  it  excit.ed  compelled  us  to  close  our  en- 
gagement. The  management  gave  us  each  a  few 
shillings  out  of  the  receipts,  but  most  of  us  were 
indebted  for  our  food  and  lodgings  so  that  when 
they  were  paid,  we  had  little  or  nothing  left;  in 
truth  we  were  practically  stranded  and  penniless. 

The  management  made  every  effort  to  do  some- 
thing for  us,  and  finally  succeeded  in  engaging 
the  schoolhouse  to  give  three  little  plays  in  a  small 
town  called  Ajrtoun,  some  eight  miles  from  Ber- 
wick, across  the  Scottish  border.  The  rent,  I  sub- 
sequently learned,  was  to  be  five  shillings.  I 
pawned  my  sole  remaining  luxury  of  other  days, 
my  traveling  rug,  and  furnished  the  means  to  pay 
the  railroad  fares  of  the  three  ladies  who  were  to 


50     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

take  part;  but  the  men,  seven  of  them  including" 
myself,  had  to  walk  to  A3^oun  and  carry  their 
small  belongings. 

A  young  steward  from  the  gunboat  station  in' 
the  Tweed,  to  protect  the  salmon  fisheries,  accom- 
panied us.  I  had  had  little  food  for  three  days 
except  some  bread  and  butter,  and  I  don't  think 
any  of  the  others  had  fared  better;  but  we  started 
off  on  our  eight-mile  walk  with  that  hope  and 
confidence  which  is  so  characteristic  of  the  actor. 

Our  road  lay  along  the  cliffs,  with  the  North 
Sea  on  one  side  and  the  Cheviot  Hills,  covered 
with  heather,  on  the  other.  There  were  no  "houses 
by  the  road  and  only  a  few  fishermen's  huts  down 
by  the  shore,  but  about  half  way  we  came  to  a 
roadside  tavern.  Our  steward  had  a  shilling— it 
was  the  only  money  in  the  party— and  he  spent  it 
for  two  quarts  of  ale,  which  we  drank  between 
us,  and  merrily  continued  our  journey,  the  steward 
playing  a  concertina  he  had  brought  with  him  and 
which  was  to  be  our  orchestra  for  the  evening's 
performance. 

We  arrived  at  Aytoun  late  in  the  afternoon, 
erected  the  "Fit-up"  in  the  schoolhouse,  hung  the 
scenery  and  patiently  awaited  our  fortune  and  a 
meal.  The  doors  were  to  open  at  half  past  six 
and  the  performance  to  begin  at  7  o'clock;  but, 
much  to  our  consternation,  we  learned  there  was 
to  be  a  parade  and  review  of  the  local  Volunteer 
Company  of  Aytoun  that  evening.  Nevertheless, 
we  opened  the  doors  at  the  usual  time  but  at  half 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     51 

past  seven,  there  was  only  three  shillings  and  six 
pence  in  the  house  and  no  signs  of  any  more. 

It  was  useless  to  wait  longer,  so  we  returned  the 
money  to  our  would-be  patrons  and  gave  up  the 
enterprise.  We  took  down  our  ** Fit-up,"  rolled 
up  our  scenery,  laid  it  away,  and,  weary,  hungry 
and  discouraged,  started  about  9  o'clock  on  our 
return  tramp  of  eight  miles  to  Berwick-on-Tweed. 

I  don't  know  how  the  others  got  home,  but  I  es- 
corted Mrs.  Hudspeth,  her  husband  having  gone 
to  Liverpool  in  search  of  an  engagement,  and  that 
poor  lady,  who  expected  soon  to  become  a  mother, 
was  in  deep  distress,  sobbing  nearly  all  the  way. 
It  was  certainly  a  long  and  weary  return  journey 
over  that  bleak  north  country  road.  We  reached 
Berwick  some  time  near  midnight,  and  after  tak- 
ing Mrs.  Hudspeth  to  her  lodging,  I  retired  to 
mine. 

The  life  of  an  actor  did  not  appear  so  attractive 
to  me  at  that  time,  and  I  am  afraid  I  yielded  to 
tears  when  I  was  alone  in  my  room,  for  I  was  very 
young,  and  oh!  so  hungry! 

An  empty  stomach  is  a  poor  support  for  pride; 
it  conquered  mine.  In  the  morning  I  decided  to 
telegraph  home  for  money.  But  how  get  the 
money  to  pay  for  the  telegram?  The  fat,  ruddy- 
cheeked  landlord  of  the  inn  had  been  very  kind, 
so  I  went  to  him.  He  was  in  apron  and  shirt 
sleeves,  presiding  at  the  taps  in  the  bar  parlor.  I 
told  my  tale  and  asked  for  the  loan  of  a  shilling 
to  send  the  telegram. 

He  was  a  shrewd  north  countryman  and  hesi- 


52     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  lilAKE-BELIEVE 

tated  between  good  nature  and  discretion,  finally 
saying:  "I'll  talk  to  the  missus,"  whereupon  he 
called  her  from  the  kitchen.  A  plump,  good  look- 
ing woman,  a  fit  companion  in  face  and  figure  for 
her  husband,  she  came  into  the  bar  parlor,  wiping 
flour  from  her  bare  arms  on  her  apron,  and  smiling 
with  the  content  of  health  and  prosperity.  The 
landlord  explained  my  errand.  I  suppose  I  looked 
rather  woebegone,  for  his  wife  said:  "Poor  lad; 
thou  look'st  fairly  sick."  Then  to  her  husband: 
"John,  put  on  thy  coat,  and  go  with  th'  lad  to  th' 
office  and  send  his  telegram." 

We  went,  the  message  was  sent,  and  the  land- 
lord took  me  back  to  the  inn.  The  good  wife 
asked  me  if  I  had  had  my  breakfast.  This  was 
too  much  for  me.  I  broke  down  and  confessed 
that  I  had  eaten  little  for  three  days.  She  raised 
her  hands  in  horror,  and,  seating  me  at  one  of 
the  tables,  spread  a  white  cloth  over  it,  brought  in 
half  of  a  pigeon  pie,  part  of  a  boiled  ham,  bread, 
butter  and  cheese,  and  placed  it  all  before  me.  The 
landlord  himself  fetched  a  pint  of  ale,  but  the 
wife  remonstrated:  "No,  a  mug  of  milk  will  do 
him  more  good,"  she  said. 

She  trotted  off  and  brought  it,  and  I  enjoyed 
one  of  the  grandest  meals  I  ever  ate.  I  have  at- 
tended many  banquets  and  dined  at  many  tables, 
but  none  can  compare  with  that  breakfast  in  the 
bar  parlor  of  the  inn  at  Berwick-on-Tweed.  My 
host  and  hostess  have  long  since  passed  away,  but 
their  memory  is  still  cherished  in  my  heart  with 
love  and  gratitude. 


George  Rignold  as  Henry  V. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     53 

The  following  morning  I  received  a  remittance 
of  five  pounds  ($25)  from  home.  I  rescued  my 
watch,  ring  and  pin,  and,  of  course,  my  traveling 
rug  (for  a  prosperous  gentleman  could  not  dis- 
pense with  that)  from  the  pawnbrokers,  gave  a 
little  something  to  each  of  the  members  of  the 
company,  said  good-by  to  the  landlord  and  his 
good  wife— God  bless  them!— took  the  train  to 
Newcastle  and  a  boat  from  there  to  London. 

And  so  ended  my  first  season  on  the  stage. 

During  the  summer  months  I  made  application 
to  the  managers  of  the  various  theatres  royal  in 
the  country  and  succeeded  in  obtaining  an  engage- 
ment for  "Responsible  Utility,"  a  grade  above  my 
position  at  Sunderland,  at  a  salary  of  twenty-five 
shillings  a  week  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Glasgow, 
in  Scotland. 

The  Theatre  Royal,  Glasgow,  was  one  of  the 
most  important  theatres  outside  of  London.  The 
company  was  a  large  one  and  included,  in  addition 
to  the  regular  lines  of  business,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men especially  engaged  for  Scotch  parts. 

The  Scottish  people  are  very  sensitive  to  the 
pronunciation  of  their  national  tongue  and  we 
gave  many  plays  during  the  season  that  had  a 
local  appeal  and  required  a  correct  expression  of 
both  the  Highland  and  Lowland  dialects,  which, 
by  the  way,  differ  materially. 

Several  of  the  company  at  Glasgow  had  been 
many  years  at  the  theatre,  notably  Mr.  Fitzroy, 
the  first  old  man,  and  Mr.  Lloyd,  the  first  come- 
dian.   These  gentlemen  now  were  both  well  ad- 


54     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

vanced  in  years,  and  at  the  beginning  of  each  sea- 
son were  located  in  the  same  dressing  room,  but 
it  was  a  tradition  that  before  many  weeks  were 
over  they  would  quarrel  over  some  trifling  differ- 
ence of  opinion  and  separate.  This  season  was  no 
exception  to  the  rule.  Yet  they  were  both  fine  old 
actors,  had  a  mutual  respect  and  esteem  for  each 
other,  and  their  differences  were  only  a  matter  of 
temperament. 

The  policy  of  the  theatre  was  similar  to  that  of 
Sunderland,  visiting  stars,  and  stock  perform- 
ances. 

The  discipline  and  system  of  the  theatre  was  ad- 
mirable; punctuality  imperative.  To  be  late  for 
a  rehearsal  was  regarded  not  only  as  a  dereliction 
of  duty,  but  an  insult  to  the  stage  director  and 
the  company.  Ten  minutes'  margin  was  allowed 
for  difference  in  clocks;  after  that  you  were  sub- 
ject to  a  reproof  for  the  first  offence,  a  financial 
forfeit  for  the  second  and  probable  dismissal  for 
the  third.  To  hold  the  curtain  or  make  a  stage 
wait  was  a  crime. 

There  were  two  Green  Rooms  at  Glasgow.  One 
for  the  principals  and  another  for  the  utility  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  and  the  ballet.  As  I  was  engaged 
for  "responsible  utility,"  I  had  the  privilege  of 
the  first. 

The  Green  Room  of  the  theatre  is  an  institution 
that  has  unfortunately  disappeared. 

It  was  a  large  room  usually  located  within  easy 
distance  of  the  stage,  plainly  but  comfortably  fur- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     55 

nished  and  intended  for  the  personal  convenience 
of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  company. 
I  A  full  length  mirror  was  generally  found  on  one 
side  of  the  room  to  enable  the  actor  to  see  his  full 
costume  and  make-up,  and  on  a  table  a  copy  of 
Johnson's  dictionary  for  reference  in  case  of  a 
disputed  pronunciation. 

It  was  to  the  Green  Room  that  the  actors  came 
when  called  for  rehearsal  and  when  dressed  for 
their  parts  in  the  evening.  From  it  they  were 
summoned  by  the  call  boy  when  required  on  the 
stage. 

>     Conversation  was  subdued  and  perfect  etiquette 
was  observed. 

On  rare  occasions  visitors  were  permitted,  but 
it  was  a  courtesy  extended  to  few.  Now,  in  the 
old  theatres  the  Green  Room  has  been  relegated  to 
the  property  man  and  in  the  majority  of  new 
ones  it  does  not  exist. 

At  the  beginning  of  my  Glasgow  season  I  com- 
menced a  diary,  but  I  regret  to  say  that  I  contin- 
ued it  for  but  a  few  weeks.  I  did,  however,  keep 
a  record  of  the  parts  I  played,  and  I  find  that  dur- 
ing the  season  commencing  September  7,  1868, 
and  terminating  May  28,  1869,  I  appeared  in 
eighty  different  plays  in  parts  varying  in  length 
from  one  to  fifty  lines.  In  explanation  of  this,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  it  was  not  unusual  to 
give  three  plays  in  one  evening.  A  light  comedy 
,  or  farce  to  play  the  audience  in,  then  the  featured 
drama  or  tragedy,  and  a  broad  farce  to  play  the 
.audience  out. 


56     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Our  performances  may  at  times  have  lacked  the 
finish  of  modem  productions,  hut  they  were  given 
with  a  spontaneous  sincerity  and  vigor  that  was 
convincing  and  impressive. 

Miss  Bateman,  our  first  star,  was  an  American 
actress,  who  had  made  a  great  success  both  in 
England  and  her  own  country  as  "Leah,  the  Jew- 
ish maiden."  She  was  the  daughter  of  the  Mr. 
Bateman  who  first  presented  Henry  Irving,  as  £t 
star,  to  the  British  public.  It  was  the  foresight 
and  enterprise  of  an  American  that  gave  Irving 
the  opportunity  to  demonstrate  his  genius,  and 
started  him  on  the  road  to  distinction  and  success. 

Charles  Dillon,  who  followed  Miss  Bateman,  was 
a  great  actor.  His  Belphegor  was  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  pathetic  performances  I  ever  wit- 
nessed. I  also  had  the  advantage  of  playing  with 
him  in  Othello  and  King  Lear.  His  presentation 
of  Othello  was  a  noble  performance,  full  of  ori- 
ental color  in  all  its  earlier  phases.  In  the  tender- 
ness and  pathos  of  the  later  scenes,  I  have  never 
seen  it  surpassed.    His  Lear  was  superb! 

Lady  Don  and  Miss  Augusta  Thompson  played 
and  sang  in  musical  comediettas. 

John  L.  Toole,  of  whom  I  shall  speak  at  length 
later,  played  a  brief  engagement  in  his  comedy 
parts,  and  Miss  Marriott  in  tragedy.  Among 
other  parts  Miss  Marriott  played  Hamlet.  I  have 
never  seen  a  woman  as  Hamlet  before,  and  I  can- 
not say  that  it  impressed  me  favorably.  Miss 
Marriott  was  mature,  and  her  feminine  figure  was 
largely  in  evidence,  which  somewhat  marred  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     57 

illusion  of  a  youthful  prince,  but  her  reading  of 
the  lines  was  splendid. 

Miss  Marriott  in  private  life  was  the  wife  of 
Mr.  Robert  Edgar,  a  humorous  gentleman,  whose 
delight  it  was  to  amaze  and  confuse  Shakespear- 
ean scholars,  and  theorists  on  Hamlet,  by  assert- 
ing that  "Hamlet  was  a  married  woman  and  he 
could  prove  it  by  official  records."  When  called 
upon  for  his  authority,  he  would  produce  his  cer- 
tificate of  marriage  to  Miss  Marriott. 

The  Christmas  pantomime  followed.  A  gor- 
geous production  founded  on  "The  Travels  of 
Gulliver,"  which  ran  for  more  than  six  weeks, 
the  principal  part  in  which  was  played  by  G.  W. 
Anson,  a  young  actor  who  subsequently  achieved 
distinction  in  England,  in  Australia  and  in  this 
country,  and  I  am  happy  to  say  is  still  delighting 
audiences  here  with  his  fine  ability,  mellowed  by 
time,  study  and  experience. 

The  principal  actors  in  the  company  usually 
took  "Benefits"  toward  the  close  of  the  season— 
a  custom  now  happily  extinct,  but  then  a  part  of 
their  contract.  The  actor  chose  his  play,  with  the 
approval  of  the  management,  and  took  a  clear 
third  of  the  night's  receipts,  his  particular  friends 
and  admirers  rallying  to  his  support. 

There  was  also  a  "general  ticket  night,"  when 
the  subordinate  actors  received  half  of  the  value 
of  the  tickets  they  could  sell.  It  was  a  recognized 
institution,  and  I  must  admit  I  have  taken  advan- 
tage of  it,  but  it  always  seemed  to  me,  except  in 
a  case  of  actual  necessity,  to  be  a  humiliation  to 


58     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

the  actor  and  an  imposition  on  his  friends.  How- 
ever, in  some  instances  it  gave  the  pubhc  an  op- 
portunity to  show  their  appreciation  of  the  actor's 
talents  and  to  demonstrate  their  esteem  for  him. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Progress  and  Promotion. 

The  loyalty  of  British  theatre-goers  to  their 
favorite  actors  is  a  characteristic  of  that  country. 
It  is  not  the  case  of  being  idolized  today  and  dis- 
carded tomorrow.  Esteem  and  respect  grow 
with  time;  admiration  begets  affection,  and  the 
actor  is  not  merely  the  entertainer  of  the  passing 
hour,  but  a  friend  who  has  a  place  in  their  hearts, 
and  is  a  factor  in  their  lives. 

During  the  Spring  season  Sims  Reeves,  the  great 
tenor,  came  to  us  appearing  in  Rob  Roy  and  Guy 
Mannering,  drawing  immense  audiences  and 
charming  them  with  his  wonderful  voice  in  the 
incidental  and  interpolated  songs. 
I  Herr  Formes,  a  popular  operatic  basso  with 
dramatic  aspirations,  played  a  week  with  us  in 
Shakespeare's  Merchant  of  Venice.  He  gave 
a  remarkable  performance  of  Shylock  with  a  deep 
guttural  German  accent.  Before  the  end  of  the 
week  Herr  Formes'  ambitions  as  a  tragedian  had 
ceased  to  be. 

Our  season  of  forty  weeks  came  to  an  end  about 
the  last  of  May,  and  with  it,  the  existence  of  thcs 
old  Theatre  Royal.  The  patent  which  gave  it  the 
title  "Royal"  was  transferred  to  the  Prince  of 

69 


60     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Wales'  Theatre  in  the  Cowcaddens,  which  after- 
ward enjoyed  the  distinction. 

Rob  Roy  was  the  play  chosen  for  the  last  night. 
The  house  was  packed.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
play  the  entire  company  and  the  audience  stood 
and  sang  ''Auld  Lang  Syne,"  on  the  last  notes  of 
which  the  curtain  of  the  old  Royal,  in  Dunlap 
street  fell  for  the  last  time. 

A  tour  of  the  industrial  towns  of  Lancashire  and 
Yorkshire  with  a  company  supporting  John  L. 
Toole,  the  comedian,  in  which  Henry  Irving  was 
the  leading  man,  delightfully  commenced  the  fol- 
lowing season.  I  say  delightfully,  for  Mr.  Toole 
was  a  most  genial  gentleman,  and  the  principals 
of  the  company  were  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  per- 
sonal charm  and  great  ability. 

Mr.  Irving  had  not  then  achieved  his  great  suc- 
cess that  culminated  in  his  knighthood,  but  he  was 
a  fine,  well  trained  actor  of  striking  personality 
that  gave  great  distinction  to  every  part  that  he 
played. 

Our  repertoire  consisted  of  a  number  of  little 
comedies  and  farces,  including  "Dearer  Than 
Life,"  "Uncle  Dick's  Darling,"  especially  writ- 
ten for  Mr.  Toole,  "Oliver  Twist"  and  several 
others.  I  was  engaged  for  the  walking  gentle- 
man, but  another  young  man  (E.  T.  Webber) 
about  my  own  age  and  experience  was  also  en- 
gaged for  the  same  line  of  parts,  it  being  under- 
stood that  the  one  of  us  who  was  the  best  dressed 
on  and  off  the  stage  should  have  the  better  parts. 

The  company  assembled  at  Rochdale,  in  York- 


Adelaide  Neilson  as  JiUiet 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     61 

shire.  Tom  Webber  and  myself  found  lodgings 
in  a  small  hotel  kept  by  a  typical  Yorkshireman.. 
On  Sunday  morning  Tom  and  I  came  downstairs 
together  to  go  to  church,  both  dressed  in  our  best, 
and  each  eyeing  the  other  critically.  The  land- 
lord, standing  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  exclaimed: 
"Eh!  lads!  thou  doesn't  favor  actors,  thou  look'st 
like  gentlemen."  We  both  laughed  heartily,  for- 
got our  rivalry  and  were  close  friends  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  season. 

There  was  an  old  saying  among  the  actors  of 
that  time,  paraphrased  from  the  Litany:  ''From 
Hell,  Hull  and  Halifax,  good  Lord  deliver  us." 
We  did  not  visit  the  first  named  place,  but  we  did 
fine  business  at  Hull  and  Halifax.  At  the  latter 
town,  Irving  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  join  him 
in  the  morning  and  walk  to  Huddersfield,  our  next 
stand,  a  short  journey  of  twelve  miles.  I  eagerly 
accepted  his  invitation,  and,  leaving  our  hand  bag- 
gage with  the  property  man,  we  started  on  our 
tramp.  It  was  a  lovely  autumn  morning,  and  at  a 
good  pace  we  strode  along  the  splendid  roads  of 
old  England,  smoking  our  briar  root  pipes  and 
swinging  our  heavy  walking  sticks. 

We  came  upon  a  roadside  inn,  stopped  for  a  bite 
and  a  sup,  sat  under  a  "spreading  chestnut  tree," 
and  with  the  appetites  of  plowmen  tackled  a  meal 
of  bread,  butter,  cheese  and  a  mug  of  ale;  the 
bread  and  butter,  home  made  and  fresh,  and  the 
cheese  and  ale  mellowed  by  time. 

Some  years  later,  Sir  Henry  Irving  (he  had 
then  been  knighted)  entertained  me  at  an  elabo- 


62     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

rate  dinner  in  this  country,  and  we  talked  over  the 
rustic  meal  two  prospective  tragedians  had  taken 
on  the  road  to  Huddersfield  years  ago,  and  both 
agreed  that  the  former  meal  was  the  most  enjoy- 
able. 

At  the  termination  of  our  tour  with  Mr.  Toole, 
the  company,  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Irving, 
went  to  the  Amphitheatre  at  Leeds  for  the  season, 
under  the  same  management.  The  Amphitheatre 
was  an  old  house  that  had  been  devoted  to  lurid 
melodrama,  and  the  more  refined  policy  of  the  new 
management  was  not  successful,  so  they  gave  it 
up,  and  the  proprietor  decided  to  run  it  on  the  old 
lines. 

I  was  retained  as  leading  man  and  stage  man- 
ager, a  wonderful  promotion  for  a  young  actor  of 
my  brief  experience,  but  thanks  to  the  co-opera- 
tion of  the  company  and  the  indulgence  of  the 
public,  I  held  the  position  satisfactorily. 

I  had  many  amusing  experiences  with  our  melo- 
dramatic stars,  one  of  which  I  recall. 

The  star  for  the  week  was  a  "Dog-man,"  that 
is  to  say,  he  brought  with  him  two  trained  dogs 
that  appeared  in  the  play.  They  seized  the  villain 
when  he  was  attacking  the  hero,  rescued  the  hero- 
ine in  distress,  brought  in  the  lost  will  at  the  criti- 
cal moment,  or  something  of  that  sort.  The  play 
Vas  "The  Forest  of  Bondy,  or  the  Dog  of  Mon- 
targis."  It  was  to  have  run  for  the  week,  but  it 
did  not  please. 

The  proprietor  sent  for  me  and  instructed  me  to 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     63 

change  the  bill.  I  knew  the  star  had  no  reper- 
toire, so  I  asked  what  play  he  would  suggest. 

He  replied:  "Give  'em  some  Shakespeare,  put 
up  Hamlet." 

I  found  our  Dog-man  star,  and  told  him  of  the 
manager's  suggestion.  He  was  delighted  with  it. 
Said  he:  "A  good  idea.  Use  the  dogs,— Hamlet's 
dog,  let  him  seize  the  King  in  the  last  act." 

I  inquired  if  he  had  ever  played  Hamlet.  He 
replied,  "No,  but  that's  all  right,  I'll  wing  the 
beggar,"  meaning  that  he  would  read  over  the 
lines  in  the  wings  and  then  go  on  and  speak  them 
before  they  had  left  his  memory. 

As  Hamlet  speaks  considerably  more  than  a 
thousand  lines,  this  was  a  startling  proposition. 
However,  I  called  a  rehearsal  for  the  following 
morning.  Our  Dog-man  came  with  a  book  of  the 
play  he  had  bought  on  his  way  to  rehearsal.  He 
separated  the  uncut  leaves  with  a  letter  opener  and 
began  to  read  the  part.  Its  length  surprised  him, 
and  turning  to  me  he  remarked  in  a  strong  Cock- 
ney dialect,  "The  bloomin'  Dane  cackles,  don't  he, 
Cully?" 

He  floundered  through  the  first  scene  until  he 
reached  Hamlet's  soliloquy  beginning,  "Oh,  that 
this  too  solid  flesh  would  melt,"  etc.  That  was 
too  much  for  him.  He  admitted  defeat  and  de- 
parted abruptly,  taking  his  dogs  with  him.  V/e 
substituted  stock  plays  to  fill  out  the  week. 

Fortune  took  me  to  a  minor  theatre  in  Man- 
chester in  the  spring,  and  I  was  so  fortunate  as 
to  attract  the  attention  of  Mr.  Charles  Calvert, 


64     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

manager  of  the  Prince's  Theatre  in  that  city.  He 
offered  me  an  engagement,  which  I  gladly  ac- 
cepted. 

The  Prince's  Theatre,  Manchester,  was  prob- 
ably the  finest  in  England,  outside  of  London.  It 
was  owned  by  an  American,  Mr.  Boston  Brown, 
whose  means,  liberality  and  good  taste  beautified 
the  front  of  the  house,  while  the  ability  and  culture 
of  Mr.  Calvert  controlled  the  stage. 

The  distinguishing  features  of  the  Prince's 
Theatre  under  Mr.  Calvert's  management  were 
revivals  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  which  were  pro- 
duced with  so  much  elaboration  of  detail,  archae- 
ological accuracy  and  wealth  of  scenery  that  they 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  entire  country.  , 

It  was  in  this  splendid  atmosphere  I  spent  the 
next  two  years.  Mr.  Calvert  was  good  enough  to 
take  great  interest  in  my  career  and  gave  me  the 
advantage  of  his  ripe  experience  and  scholarship, 
encouraging  me  to  study  the  great  characters  of 
Shakespeare,  and  really  laid  the  foundation  of 
what  subsequently  became  the  ambition  and  work 
of  my  life. 

The  first  Shakespearean  production  in  which  I 
was  engaged  was  "Richard  the  Third"  played 
from  the  full  text  of  the  poet.  The  usual  acting 
edition  of  ** Richard  III"  is  a  greatly  curtailed  ver- 
sion of  the  play,  with  passages  from  other  plays, 
and  interpolations  by  CoUey  Cibber.  This  ver- 
sion has  been  used  by  tragedians  for  many  years 
and  is  very  popular  still,  but  many  of  the  char- 
acters  and   incidents  of  the   original  text  are 


Edwin  Booth 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     65 

omitted,  and  many  passages  and  climaxes  made 
exceedingly  melodramatic  and  theatric. 

Our  production  was  very  massive  and  elaborate. 
The  dresses,  armors,  weapons,  banners  and  her- 
aldic devices  were  all  reproduced  from  competent 
authorities  and  a  panorama  and  pageant  of  medi- 
eval splendor  was  the  result. 

I  do  not  remember  the  cast  of  all  of  the  char- 
acters, but  Mr.  Calvert  played  Richard  and  gave  a 
splendid  performance  of  the  part.  Mrs.  Calvert 
was .  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  I  was  cast  for  Lord 
Hastings. 

** Richard  the  Third"  ran  for  twelve  weeks  to 
enormous  business,  after  which  Mr.  Toole,  the 
comedian,  played  a  brief  engagement  and  then  the 
Christmas  pantomime  was  produced. 

The  subject  was  "Bluebeard,"  and  I  was  cast 
for  that  much  married  reprobate.  I  played  it  in 
a  vein  of  burlesque  tragedy,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  I  had  both  to  sing  and  to  dance,  accomplish- 
ments in  which  I  was  sadly  deficient,  I  was  quite 
a  success.  The  production  was  a  spectacle  of 
oriental  splendor  and  magnificance,  the  transfor- 
mation scene  being  especially  beautiful.  This 
particular  scene  was  called  "The  Nativity  of 
Venus,"  and  at  the  conclusion  of  our  run  was 
purchased  by  Messrs.  Jarrett  &  Palmer,  the  Amer- 
ican managers,  and  brought  to  Nev/  York. 

Following  the  run  of  the  pantomime.  Miss  Ade- 
laide Neilson,  then  the  most  beautiful  and  popular 
actress  on  the  English  stage,  came  to  us  for  a 
lengthy  engagement. 


66     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Her  repertoire  included  "Romeo  and  Juliet," 
"As  You  Like  It,"  and  "The  Lady  of  Lyons." 

When  I  had  met  the  lady  some  four  years  be- 
fore I  played  very  small  parts  with  her,  but  now 
I  was  Romeo,  Orlando  and  Claude  Melnotte,  the 
opposite  leading  parts  to  the  star. 

Miss  Neilson  played  with  realistic  emotion  and 
passion,  and  as  I  was  a  young  man  full  of  vigor 
and  enthusiasm,  I  responded.  The  result  was 
quite  a  sensation,  particularly  in  "Romeo  and 
Juliet."  Juliet's  tears  and  kisses  were  real  and 
her  embraces  earnest  and  sincere.  One  critic  re- 
marked to  me:  "You  were  both  so  intense  in  the 
garden  scene  I  fully  expected  to  see  Juliet  jump 
down  from  the  balcony  into  your  arms,  or  you  to 
climb  up  to  hers,  and  I  wouldn't  have  blamed  you 
if  you  had." 

"Romeo  and  Juliet"  ran  four  weeks.  We  then 
presented  "As  You  Like  It,"  and  I  don't  think 
Rosalind  ever  had  a  better  representative  than 
Miss  Nielson. 

In  the  part  of  Orlando,  in  "As  You  Like  It,"  I 
had  to  wrestle  with,  and  finally  throw,  Charles,  the 
Duke's  wrestler,  in  a  bout  in  the  presence  of  the 
Duke.  A  huge  athletic  man,  who  posed  for  Her- 
cules and  other  heroic  figures  in  the  art  school, 
had  been  engaged  for  the  wrestler. 

Our  wrestling  business  had,  of  course,  been  all 
arranged  and  rehearsed,  and  for  the  first  few 
nights  all  went  well,  but  one  day  Charles  had  been 
indulging  too  much  in  old  ale,  or  possibly  some- 
thing stronger,  and  came  to  the  theatre  very  much 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     67 

the  worse  for  liquor.  But  he  was  able  to  appear, 
though  in  a  very  bad  temper.  We  skirmished  for 
our  grip,  finally  closed  and  wrestled  as  arranged 
until  it  was  time  for  Charles  to  go  down;  but  he 
wouldn't  go  down,  and  I  couldn't  make  him.  I 
whispered:  **Go  down— let  me  throw  you,"  but  he 
replied:  "If  you  talk  to  me  I'll  throw  you  in  the 
bloody  orchestra."  The  worst  of  it  was,  he  could 
have  done  it.  Yet  ultimately  he  permitted  me  to 
throw  him.  For  a  few  minutes,  however,  it  looked 
as  if  Charles  the  wrestler  was  to  be  the  hero  of  the 
occasion,  instead  of  Orlando. 

I  recall  at  this  late  day  the  exquisite  setting  Mr. 
Calvert  gave  us  for  "As  You  Like  It."  He  was 
a  master  of  stagecraft,  had  a  most  refined  taste,  a 
love  for  the  beautiful,  and  our  sylvan  scenes  in  the 
Forest  of  Arden  rivalled  nature  itself.  How  my 
youthful  imagination  revelled  in  the  scene  as 
Rosalind  in  her  boy's  dress  of  doublet  and  hose 
wandered  through  those  leafy  aisles  under  the  in- 
terlacing branches  of  the  trees!  It  seemed  to  me 
the  perfect  realization  of  the  poet's  ideal. 

A  production  of  Lord  Lytton's  play,  "The  Lady 
of  Lyons,"  in  which  I  was  Claude  Melnotte,  the 
hero,  brought  Miss  Neilson's  engagement  to  a 
close. 

It  is  remarkable  with  what  skill  the  distin- 
guished author  has  clothed  the  young  scoundrel 
Claude  Melnotte  in  a  garment  of  poetry  and  con- 
cealed the  villainy  of  his  assumption  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  Prince  of  Como.  It  is  said  that  Lord 
L3rtton  was  deeply  chagrined  at  the  lack  of  success 


68     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

of  some  of  his  former  plays,  which  had  great  liter- 
ary merit,  and  that  he  wrote  "The  Lady  of 
Lyons"  from  a  purely  theatrical  point  of  view. 
The  result,  however,  was  one  of  the  most  popular 
romantic  dramas  of  the  day  and  the  success  of 
our  production  was  another  instance  of  its  popu- 
larity. 

An  unfortunate  incident  occurred  on  our  first 
performance  of  the  play.  In  the  fourth  act,  the 
parents  of  the  heroine,  Pauline,  having  discovered 
the  imposition  practiced  on  their  daughter,  come 
to  the  humble  cottage  to  which  Claude  has  taken 
his  bride,  and  demand  her  release.  But  Pauline 
does  not  wish  to  leave  her  peasant  husband,  and 
proposes  that  her  parents  adopt  Claude  as  their 
son.  Her  father,  an  upright  business  man,  de- 
clines to  do  this,  and  insists  that  Claude  return 
to  his  station  and  give  Pauline  a  divorce.  Pauline 
exclaims  with  indignation: 

"And  you  would  have  a  wife  enjoy  luxury  while 
her  husband  toils?" 

Then  turning  to  Claude,  who  is  standing  peni- 
tently in  the  left  hand  comer,  she  continues: 
"Claude!  Claude!  thou  canst  not  give  me  titles, 
rank  and  station,  but  thou  canst  give  me  a  true 
heart.  Take  me,  I  am  thine  and  no  word  of  re- 
proach shall  ever  pass  my  lips,"  and  rushes  into 
Claude's  arms. 

This  was  the  situation.  Pauline  rushed  toward 
me,  but  I  was  unprepared.  She  struck  me  full  in 
the  breast,  I  fell  backwards,  and  Pauline  fell  with 
me.  There  was,  of  course,  considerable  amusement 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     69 

in  the  audience  and  confusion  on  the  stage.  We 
were  assisted  to  our  feet,  and  with  considerable  em- 
barrassment resumed  our  position,  when  I,  with- 
out thinking,  spoke  the  next  line  of  the  text,  which 
unfortunately  happened  to  be,  "This  is  the  heavi- 
est blow  of  aU." 

I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  such  hysterical  laugh- 
ter in  my  life.  Actors,  audience  and  musicians 
were  convulsed.  It  was  impossible  to  proceed 
with  the  play.  We  endeavored  to  continue  but 
our  voices  were  drowned  in  laughter.  The  cur- 
tain fell,  and  the  audience  dispersed,  feeling  amply 
repaid  for  the  loss  of  the  conclusion  of  the  play. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  season  at  Manchester 
I  obtained  a  summer  engagement  at  the  Theatre 
Royal,  Douglas,  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  under  the  man- 
agement of  Mr.  John  Coleman,  an  eccentric  gen- 
tleman, but  a  scholar  and  a  very  fine  actor. 

The  company  was  a  good  one,  the  work  easy  and 
our  stay  on  the  island  more  like  a  vacation  than 
a  working  season.  We  rehearsed  every  morning 
at  10  0 'clock  and  were  through  by  12.  The  gentle- 
men would  then  go  down  to  the  dock,  take  an 
eight-oared  gig  and  row  over  to  Port  Skillion 
Creek,  a  delightful  bathing  place  secure  from  pub- 
lic intrusion,  with  every  facility  for  just  wetting 
your  feet  or  diving  into  water  forty  feet  deep. 

There,  in  the  simple  costume  of  a  pair  of  bath- 
ing drawers,  we  would  enact  the  most  wonderful 
extemporaneous  melodramas  that  fun  and  non- 
sense would  suggest.  The  villain  would  throw 
the  heroine  into  the  water,  the  hero  would  leap  in 


70     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

to  save  her,  we  would  duck  the  villain  and  indulge 
in  the  wildest  fun  for  an  hour  or  so,  then  return 
for  dinner,  study,  rest  and  preparation  for  the 
evening  performance. 

Among  many  parts  I  played  that  summer  was 
Mathias  in  "The  Bells,"  Henry  Irving's  great 
success.  I  was  the  first  actor  to  play  it  outside 
of  London. 

Mr.  Coleman  directed  our  rehearsals  with  skill 
and  ability,  but  he  was  very  fond  of  using  long 
and  sometimes  confusing  terms  in  his  directions. 
For  example,  he  was  instructing  some  supernu- 
meraries who  were  to  represent  villagers  to  laugh 
at  him  as  he  came  upon  the  scene,  and  he  said:  "I 
want  you  to  give  me  a  laugh  as  I  come  on,  a 
greasy  laugh  of  truculent  defiance." 

On  another  occasion  when  an  actor  asked  for  a 
small  advance  on  account  of  salary,  he  responded: 
"Sir,  you  are  always  in  a  state  of  dire  impecuni- 
osity."  It  was  a  slight  affectation,  but  in  spite  of 
it  we  all  had  a  profound  respect  and  esteem  for 
John  Coleman,  the  actor,  the  director,  and  the 
man. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Shakespearean  Ambitions.    America  in  Prospect. 

On  my  return  to  Manchester  for  my  second  sea- 
son, Mr.  Calvert  made  a  most  elaborate  produc- 
tion of  Shakespeare's  comedy  of  "The  Merchant 
of  Venice."  The  scenes  were  reproductions  of 
Venice  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  costumes 
copied  from  portraits  in  the  old  Italian  galleries, 
and  real  gondolas  were  imported  from  Venice  for 
the  production. 

New  incidental  music,  including  a  Venetian 
Masque,  was  composed  for  the  production,  by 
Arthur  Sullivan,  who  conducted  the  orchestra  for 
the  first  week. 

Arthur  Sullivan,  who  was  afterward  knighted, 
is  perhaps  better  remembered  by  his  association 
with  W.  S.  Gilbert  in  the  composition  of  H.  M.  S. 
Pinafore  and  other  comic  operas.  Sullivan  had 
a  charming  personality  and  was  a  great  favorite 
with  us  all. 

Many  actors  who  play  Shylock  terminate  the 
play  with  the  exit  of  that  character  in  the  trial 
scene;  but  we  used  the  full  text  as  it  is  printed  in 
the  usual  published  editions. 

It  was  in  this  production  I  saw  tableau  curtains 
used  for  the  first  time.  Heretofore,  a  green  baize 
curtain  that  descended  in  folds  opened  and  closed 

71 


72     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

the  play,  while  a  painted  drop,  with  a  heavy  roller, 
rose  and  fell  between  the  acts.  Mr.  Calvert  used 
heavy  velvet  curtains,  with  appropriate  Venetian 
decorations,  parted  and  closed  by  Italian  pages  be- 
tween the  scenes,  making  each  one  a  tableau. 

Mr.  Calvert  played  Shylock.  Mr.  Henry  Van- 
derhofif  the  Gratiano,  Frank  Archer,  Antonio;  Miss 
Carlisle,  Portia;  Miss  Rose  Coghlan,  Nerissa,  and 
I  was  the  Bassanio. 

Miss  Rose  Coghlan  was  a  young  and  beautiful 
girl,  who  subsequently  came  to  this  country,  for 
many  seasons  was  leading  lady  at  Wallack's  The- 
atre, New  York,  and  is  still  playing,  dignifying 
her  parts  with  the  consummate  art  that  only 
great  ability,  allied  with  ripe  experience,  can  give. 

Another  Shakespearean  revival,  though  on  a 
less  elaborate  scale,  was  a  condensed  version  of 
"The  Taming  of  the  Shrew"  called  "Katherine 
and  Petruchio,"  in  which  Miss  Coghlan  played  the 
shrewish  Katherine  and  I  appeared  as  the  roy- 
stering  Petruchio. 

The  Christmas  Pantomime  followed  "Katherine 
and  Petruchio. ' '  I  did  not  play  in  it,  but  appeared 
in  the  farce  or  comedietta  that  preceded  it,  per- 
formances to  which  the  audience  paid  little  atten- 
tion, being  impatient  for  the  brilliant  spectacle 
they  had  come  to  see.  A  production  of  a  new  play 
by  Tom  Taylor,  author  of  "The  Ticket  of  Leave 
Man,"  called  "Handsome  Is  That  Handsome 
Does,"  followed  the  Pantomime. 

Mr.  Compton  was  the  star.  He  played  a  vil- 
lage schoolmaster.    I  was  a  young  aristocrat  on 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  ]V[A]fcE-BELIEVE     73 

a  reading  tour.  The  late  Mr.  E.  S.  Willard,  whose 
performances  in  "The  Middleman"  and  "The 
Professor's  Love  Story"  are  so  delightfully  re- 
membered, was  also  in  the  cast. 

In  one  scene,  a  village  festival,  there  were  three 
wrestling  bouts  between  Mr.  Compton  and  myself. 
Mr.  Compton  was  to  win  the  first  bout,  I  the  second 
and  Mr.  Compton  the  third,  winning  the  match. 
The  wrestling  had  been  carefully  rehearsed  and 
the  falls  arranged,  but  Mr.  Compton  was  an  elder- 
ly man,  and  on  the  first  night  I  threw  him  so  heav- 
ily in  the  second  bout  that  it  almost  broke  the 
poor  gentleman's  back.  After  this  the  contest 
was  limited  to  one  bout  to  decide  our  physical 
superiority. 

Mr.  Compton  has  long  since  passed  away,  but 
what  a  fine  unctuous  comedian  he  was!  His 
Touchstone,  the  roynish  clown  in  "As  You  Like 
It,"  still  lingers  in  my  mind  as  the  best  I  ever 
witnessed. 

An  engagement  of  Mr.  Dion  Boucicault,  the  au- 
thor of  "The  Colleen  Bawn,"  "The  Shaughran," 
and  other  Irish  plays,  filled  several  weeks,  and  I 
profited  greatly  from  his  instruction.  He  was  a 
master  of  stagecraft  and  dramatic  detail. 

In  a  little  play  called  "Kerry"  I  had  to  eat  a 
couple  of  lamb  chops  and  drink  a  glass  of  brandy 
and  water.  Mr.  Boucicault  insisted  on  having  the 
real  thing.  They  were  sent  nightly  from  the 
Queen's  Hotel  and  I  was  compelled  to  devour  two 
chops  and  drink  brandy  an4  water  before  the  audi- 


74     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

ence,  speaking  my  dialogue  between  mouthfuls, 
swallowing  unmasticated  food  and  drinking  ar- 
dent spirits  from  a  tumbler  that  Mr.  Boucicault 
as  "Kerry,"  the  faithful  servant,  constantly  re- 
plenished. 

I  have  to  thank  Dion  Boucicault  for  my  first 
attack  of  indigestion,  but  I  am  also  indebted  to 
him  for  an  indorsement  that  won  me  my  first  en- 
gagement in  this  country,  so  in  the  balance  of 
things  I  esteem  myself  his  debtor. 

Two  interesting  visitors  were  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
William  J.  Florence,  who  will  be  remembered 
here  for  their  unique  performance  of  the  Hon. 
Bardwell  Slote  and  Mrs.  Gen.  Gilflory  in  The 
Mighty  Dollar  some  years  ago.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Florence  were  advertised  as  "The  Irish  Boy  and 
Yankee  Girl."  We  had  many  Irish  comedians 
on  the  English  stage,  but  the  Yankee  Girl  was  a 
new  character  to  us,  and  Mrs.  Florence  greatly 
pleased  our  Manchester  audience.  Mr.  Flor- 
ence was  more  successful  as  Cap'n  Cuttle,  in  a 
version  of  Charles  Dickens'  novel  "Dombey  and 
Son." 

Another  visiting  star  and  very  great  favorite 
was  Mr.  E.  A.  Sothern,  who  played  Lord  Dun- 
dreary in  "Our  American  Cousin,"  "The  Crushed 
Tragedian,"  "David  Garrick"  and  "A  Regular 
Fix."  Mr.  Sothern  was  a  man  of  distinguished 
appearance  and  of  complete  savoir  faire.  He 
had  lived  some  years  in  America  and  was  thor- 
oughly democratic  with  the  company  and  dearlj* 
loved  a  practical  joke. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     75 

A  monster  benefit  was  given  at  the  Prince's  for 
the  sufferers  by  the  great  fire  that  had  almost  de- 
stroyed Chicago.  Everything  was  donated,  the 
house  was  packed  and  a  substantial  sum  of  money 
was  sent  to  America  to  aid  in  the  relief  of  our 
American  cousins. 

A  revival  of  Shakespeare 's  *  *  Timon  of  Athens, '  * 
in  which  Mr.  Calvert  played  Timon  and  I  one  of 
his  faithful  serving  men,  brought  the  season  and 
my  engagement  to  a  close. 

What  a  wealth  of  experience  those  two  years  at 
the  Prince's  Theatre,  Manchester,  had  given  me! 
What  a  variety  of  parts  I  had  played!  And,  bet- 
,ter  still,  what  a  love  and  reverence  for  Shakes- 
peare and  an  ambition  to  adequately  present  his 
characters  and  plays  had  been  aroused  in  my  mind 
and  heart!  Many,  many  times  in  the  years  that 
have  passed  since  those  early  days  I  have  blessed 
the  happy  chance  that  took  me  to  Manchester  and 
the  good  fortune  that  gave  me  such  a  master,  pre- 
ceptor and  friend  as  that  admirable  actor,  scholar 
and  gentleman,  Charles  Calvert. 

Another  piece  of  good  fortune  fell  to  my  lot  in 
Manchester.  While  I  was  playing  Romeo  to  Miss 
Nielson  on  the  stage,  I  was  playing  Romeo  in  real 
life  to  the  sweetest  little  woman  in  the  world. 
Like  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  we  were  married,  but 
there  the  similitude  ends,  for  in  our  case  the 
lady  and  myself  have  enjoyed  a  long  life  of  happi- 
ness; and  that  same  little  woman,  with  a  silver 
halo  round  her  sweet  face,  sits  by  my  side  and 
smiles  at  me  as  I  am  writing  these  lines. 


76     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

When  the  season  had  closed  in  Manchester  I 
made  my  first  essay  in  management.  I  leased  the 
Theatre  Royal,  Oldham,  in  Lancashire,  for  a 
month.  I  produced  "Faust,"  "Little  Em'ly," 
"All  That  Glitters  Is  Not  Gold"  and  several  other 
plays.  For  the  final  week  I  presented  Mr.  Charles 
Calvert  in  "Louis  XI,"  a  part  he  played  with 
great  effect  and  skill.  The  result  of  my  manage- 
ment was  a  great  store  of  experience,  but  very 
little  profit. 

Brighton  is  but  a  short  distance  from  London, 
yet  the  Theatre  Royal  is  called  a  provincial  thea- 
tre, in  fact,  the  term  "provincial"  is  applied  to 
ever3rthing  and  everybody  outside  of  the  metrop- 
olis. 

It  was  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Brighton,  under 
the  management  of  Mr.  Nye  Chart,  I  obtained  an 
engagement  for  the  next  season. 

Mr.  Chart  was  an  excellent  gentleman,  but  a 
confirmed  invalid.  He  had  formerly  been  an 
actor  of  considerable  reputation  as  a  comedian. 
He  had  practically  retired  from  the  stage  and 
played  but  one  part  with  us  during  the  season, 
Nat  Gosling,  an  old  jockey,  in  Boucicault's  racing 
drama,  "The  Flying  Scud." 

The  great  scene  in  "The  Flying  Scud"  is  the 
race  course  on  Epsom  Downs.  Mr.  Chart,  who 
was  anything  but  an  accomplished  equestrian,  had 
to  enter  the  scene  on  horseback,  having  won  the 
great  race  for  the  Derby.  The  stage  was  filled  by 
a  shouting  crowd  as  the  old  jockey,  in  his  racing^ 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     77 

colors,  mounted  on  the  winning  horse,  was  led  on 
by  the  grooms. 

It  was  a  great  climax  and  some  admirer  in  one 
of  the  boxes  threw  a  large  bouquet  upon  the  stage. 
Mr.  Blakeley,  playing  one  of  the  characters, 
picked  up  the  flowers  and  handed  them  to  Mr. 
Chart,  but  in  doing  so  struck  the  horse  on  the  nose. 
The  horse,  unaccustomed  to  floral  tributes  and 
already  excited  by  the  lights  and  the  noise,  reared 
on  his  hind  legs  and  backed  into  the  crowd,  almost 
unseating  Mr.  Chart,  who  frantically  grasped  the 
animal  round  the  neck  to  avoid  falling  off.  The 
act  drop  descended.  Mr.  Chart  angrily  asked  Mr. 
Blakeley:  "What  the  devil  did  you  do  that  for?" 
to  which  Mr.  Blakeley  replied  with  asperity: 
"Why  don't  you  ride  a  horse  that  knows  his  busi- 
ness?" 

Several  new  plays  were  produced  during  the 
season,  notably  "Gilded  Youth,"  by  Sir  Charles 
Young,  author  of  "Jim,  the  Penman,"  etc.,  and 
"Marlborough,"  by  Henry  Vining.  We  had  few 
stars  in  Brighton,  but  one  very  interesting  visitor 
was  the  American  comedian,  JT.  K.  Emmett,  who 
played  "Fritz,  Our  Cousin  German."  As  I  re- 
member, he  was  the  first  actor  to  present  the 
character  of  the  newly-arrived  emigrant  with  a 
German  dialect  to  the  English  public.  The  play 
was  original,  Mr.  Emmett  sang  several  catchy 
songs  and  was  a  substantial  success. 

I  did  not  play  in  the  pantomime,  although  a 
most  elaborate  one  was  produced,  but  we  encoun- 
tered a  very  unpleasant  experience. 


78     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

A  young  lady  was  specially  engaged  for  the 
leading  boy's  part  in  the  burlesque  opening.  At 
the  rehearsals  it  was  found  she  had  no  knowledge 
of  music  and  could  not  sing.  Mr.  Chart  protested 
at  her  lack  of  vocal  ability,  but  the  young  lady 
asserted,  **It  was  the  province  of  the  orchestra  to 
furnish  the  music,  she  would  speak  the  words." 
Mr.  Chart  demanded  her  resignation.  She  in- 
sisted on  the  engagement  being  kept,  so  Mr.  Chart 
compelled  her  to  rehearse,  dress,  make  up  and  go 
through  her  part  every  day  in  a  large  room  at 
the  back  of  the  stage,  with  only  the  prompter  for 
an  audience,  while  another  actress  was  engaged  to 
appear  in  the  public  performance. 

The  young  lady  heroically  complied  with  these 
conditions  for  a  week,  but  finally  succumbed  to 
discipline  and  left  us.  It  was  rather  a  drastic 
remedy  for  incompetency,  but  not  without  an  ele- 
ment of  justice. 

My  last  winter  season  in  England  was  spent  at 
the  Royal  Alexandra  Theatre  in  Liverpool,  under 
the  management  of  Mr.  Edward  Saker.  The 
Alexandra  was  a  splendid  theatre  standing  next 
to  the  Lime-Street  railroad  station  and  is  well 
known  to  many  visiting  Americans. 

The  company  was  a  fine  one  and  included  Mr. 
Fred  Thorne,  the  comedian,  who  shortly  afterward 
came  to  this  country  and  made  such  a  pronounced 
success  as  Fluellin,  the  Welsh  captain,  in  **  Henry 
the  Fifth";  Mr.  Hargreaves  and  Mr.  Constantine, 
who  both  appeared  here  later  in  various  com- 
panies.   Mr.  Harry  Loveday  was  our  musical  di- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     79 

rector  and  subsequently  accompanied  Sir  Henry 
Irving^  to  the  States  in  the  same  capacity. 

All  of  the  principal  stars  came  to  us  in  the 
course  of  the  season,  and  at  Christmas  the  annual 
Pantomime  was  produced,  the  opening  founded  on 
Moore's  poem  and  called  "Little  Lalla  Rookh.'* 

I  played  a  part  in  it  called  Fadladeen,  in  which 
the  author  had  written  a  song,  "Oh!  Mother,  Part 
My  Curly  Hair,"  a  parody  on  the  tenor  songs  of 
the  minstrel  companies.  As  I  have  before  con- 
fessed, my  vocal  ability  is  very  limited  and  I  an- 
ticipated the  fate  of  the  young  lady  at  Brighton. 
Mr.  Loveday  was  very  patient  with  me,  and 
though  I  must  have  driven  him  nearly  to  distrac- 
tion, he  finally  managed  to  get  the  tune  into  my 
head  and  I  got  through  with  it,  but  I  noticed  Mr. 
Loveday  invariably  left  his  conductor's  seat  and 
his  repetiteur  to  conduct  before  I  reached  my 
vocal  number. 

We  produced  some  new  plays  in  the  spring, 
notably  "The  Avalanche,"  by  Miss  Braddon,  the 
novelist,  and  "Sithors  to  Grind,"  a  domestic 
drama  by  George  Ralph  Walker.  The  latter  play 
was  intended  as  a  vehicle  for  Mr.  Saker  to  star 
in,  and  after  our  Liverpool  production  it  was  taken 
to  the  Globe  Theatre  in  London  for  metropolitan 
endorsement. 

A  London  engagement  was,  and  still  is,  the  goal 
of  every  English  actor's  ambition,  and  I  consid- 
ered myself  very  fortunate  in  having  such  a  good 
part  as  Ned  Bluff  in  "Sithors  to  Grind"  in  which 
to  make  my  first  metropolitan  appearance. 


80     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Ned  Bluff  was  a  brawny  young  blacksmith,  in 
love  with  a  little  girl,  a  cripple  and  an  apparently 
hopeless  invalid.  He  was  rugged  and  manly,  but 
sympathetic  and  tender,  and  I  was  in  love  with 
the  part. 

The  play  was  well  received.  I  was  called  before 
the  curtain  and  we  all  thought  we  had  a  success, 
but  awaited  with  anxiety  for  the  verdict  of  the 
critics  in  the  newspapers  of  the  following  day. 

I  was  living  at  home  and  was  sleeping  late  after 
the  excitement  of  the  preceding  night.  My 
mother  brought  all  of  the  morning  papers  to  my 
bedroom.  I  woke  at  her  entrance,  looked  at  her 
anxiously,  knowing  she  had  read  them  all,  when 
she  said:  "Well,  my  dear,  they  say  you  are  very 
bad."  But  her  pleased  expression  belied  her 
words.  I  glanced  over  them,  these  fateful  criti- 
cisms, rapidly  at  first,  then  read  them  word  by 
word. 

The  notices  were  all  very  favorable,  and  John 
Oxenford,  the  celebrated  dramatic  critic  of  the 
"Times,"  was  good  enough  to  say:  "Mr.  Warde, 
as  Ned  Bluff,  looked  as  if  he  had  stepped  out  of  one 
of  Charles  Dickens'  Christmas  books  and  acted  his 
part  with  sincerity  and  skill." 

Mr.  J.  H.  Barnes,  more  familiarly  known  as 
Jack  Barnes,  one  of  the  handsomest  actors  in  Eng- 
land, played  an  important  part  in  "Sithors  to 
Grind."  He  subsequently  came  to  America  in 
support  of  Adelaide  Neilson  and  has  more  recently 
appeared  here  in  several  productions  of  modem 
plays  with  credit  and  distinction. 


Edwin  Bootb 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     81 

At  the  close  of  my  London  engagement  I  accom- 
panied a  young  and  ambitious  lady  star  with  a 
new  play  to  try  her  fortunes  in  Scotland.  She 
had  assembled  together  a  number  of  good  actors, 
it  being  late  in  the  season,  and  we  played  in  Aber- 
deen, Glasgow  and  Edinburgh. 

In  the  company  was  a  young  man  of  about  my 
own  age  named  Robert  Brough,  a  nephew  of 
Lionel  Brough,  the  distinguished  London  come- 
dian.   Bob  and  I  became  great  friends. 

One  morning  at  Aberdeen  we  had  gone  some  lit- 
tle distance  out  of  town  to  the  shore  to  bathe. 
While  we  were  in  the  water  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
us  that  the  royal  train  carrjdng  Queen  Victoria  to 
her  Scotch  castle  at  Balmoral  was  to  pass  the 
Junction,  about  two  miles  distant,  at  12  o'clock. 
We  hastily  made  for  shore,  looked  at  our  watches 
and  found  we  had  but  a  short  time  to  make  it,  but 
as  neither  of  us  had  lever  seen  Her  Majesty  we 
decided  to  make  the  effort. 

We  had  no  towels,  but  rapidly  dressed  and 
started  on  a  run  for  the  Junction.  When  we  ar- 
rived we  found  the  royal  train  at  the  platform  and 
a  semi-circle  of  people  bareheaded  standing  re- 
spectfully round  the  royal  carriage.  The  Queen 
and  her  youngest  daughter.  Princess  Beatrice, 
were  at  the  window,  and  John  Brown,  her  High- 
land servant,  on  guard  at  the  door.  We  pushed 
our  way  through  the  crowd  to  the  front  and  took 
off  our  hats.  Our  movement  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Queen  and  Princess,  who  both  burst  out 


82     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

laughing  at  our  appearance,  and  the  crowd  joined 
in  the  fun. 

We  were  without  collars  or  ties;  we  carried 
them  in  our  hands.  Our  clothes  were  disarranged. 
We  were  puffing  with  our  exertions,  flushed  with 
exercise,  and  our  hair  dishevelled  and  damp, 
standing  every-which-way  from  the  salt  water. 
We  were  embarrassed  by  the  attention  we  at- 
tracted, but  we  saw  the  Queen  and  our  object  was 
gained. 

In  the  company  was  a  gentleman  named  Mr. 
George  Warde.  Both  he  and  I  lived  in  the  same 
square  in  Edinburgh.  These  squares  are  like  a 
cul  de  sac  having  only  one  entrance.  George 
Warde,  Bob  Brough  and  myself  were  starting  out 
for  a  walk  one  morning— I  think  we  were  bound 
for  Holyrood— when  we  met  a  telegraph  boy  com- 
ing into  the  square. 

As  telegrams  were  infrequent  we  inquired 
whom  his  message  was  for.  He  answered:  "A 
play  actor  named  Warde. "  "  Which  Warde, ' '  we 
asked,  "George  or  F.  B.?"  "F.  B.,"  he  replied. 
I  took  the  message  and  found  to  my  delight  it  was 
a  proposition  from  Messrs.  Jarrett  and  Palmer, 
managers  of  Booth's  Theatre,  New  York,  through 
their  London  agents,  asking  me  the  salary  I  re- 
quired to  come  to  America  and  play  the  juvenile 
leading  parts  at  their  theatre. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

My  Arrival  and  First  Experiences  in  America. 

I  was  surprised  and  delighted  at  the  prospect 
of  going  to  America.  Visions  of  emolument  and 
success  in  a  new  world  rose  before  me.  My 
friends  congratulated  me.  We  continued  our 
walk,  discussing  the  telegram,  the  salary  I  should 
ask,  the  plays  in  which  I  should  probably  appear, 
life  and  expenses  in  New  York  and  every  angle  of 
the  proposition  without  either  of  us  knowing  a 
thing  about  life  and  conditions  in  the  United 
States. 

I  replied  to  the  telegram,  and  after  some  nego- 
tiations received  a  contract  for  a  year's  engage- 
ment at  a  salary  of  more  than  four  times  the 
amount  I  had  ever  received  for  my  services  in 
England. 

Our  season  closed  in  Edinburgh  and  I  hastened 
to  my  home,  then  in  the  suburbs  of  Liverpool, 
completed  arrangements  for  my  family,  who  were 
to  join  me  later,  if  I  were  successful,  and  prepared 
for  my  voyage. 

I  sailed  from  Liverpool  early  in  July  on  the 
Inman  steamship  City  of  Richmond. 

It  happened  that  Mr.  Toole,  the  comedian,  was 

83/ 


84     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

to  sail  for  New  York  at  the  same  time,  but  aboard 
another  ship,  the  Republic,  of  the  White  Star  Line. 
The  tenders  of  both  vessels  left  from  the  same 
landing  stage.  There  were  a  great  number  of 
friends  to  wish  God-speed  to  Mr.  Toole,  and  I 
shared  in  their  good  wishes.  Just  before  going 
aboard  Mr.  Toole  in  his  genial  v/ay  came  to  me 
and  said:  **Warde,  I'll  bet  you  a  bottle  of  wine  I 
get  there  first."  I  accepted  the  challenge  and 
won  by  five  hours. 

Our  last  good-bys  were  said,  the  signal  "All 
aboard"  was  given  and,  with  a  benizon  of  love 
that  shone  through  the  tears  of  the  dear  ones  left 
behind  and  the  cheers  and  good  wishes  of  friends, 
I  embarked  on  the  ship  that  was  to  take  me  to  the 
new  world,  when  I  was  destined  to  make  my! 
future  home  and  to  find  the  prosperity  and  happi- 
ness I  have  so  abundantly  enjoyed. 

The  City  of  Richmond  was  a  fine  vessel,  splen- 
didly officered  and  manned,  and,  being  midsum- 
mer, we  had  a  very  smooth  passage.  I  did  not, 
however,  escape  the  discomfort  of  seasickness,  but 
an  old  veteran  of  the  navy.  Sir  John  Britton,  took 
me  in  hand.  He  kept  me  walking  the  deck  and 
nibbling  a  ship  biscuit  till  I  got  over  it,  and  I 
suffered  no  more  on  the  trip. 

I  was  particularly  fortunate  in  sharing  my  state- 
room with  Lawrence  Hutton,  a  New  Yorker,  and 
practically  my  first  American  acquaintance,  which 
resulted  in  an  intimate  friendship  that  continued 
for  many  years. 

Lawrence  Hutton  was  a  man  of  literary  taste, 


Frederick  Warde  as  lago 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     85 

an  author,  a  dramatic  critic  and  a  traveler;  in 
fact,  he  was  then  returning  to  the  United  States 
from  Iceland,  where  he  had  accompanied  Dr. 
Kane's  expedition. 

Hutton  used  to  say  the  first  favorable  impres- 
sion I  made  upon  him  was  by  the  sight  of  a  pair 
of  very  sjrmmetrical  limbs  descending  from  the 
upper  berth  in  the  stateroom,  which  he  subse- 
quently recognized  with  renewed  admiration  in 
a  pair  of  rose-colored  silk  tights  on  the  stage  of 
Booth's  Theatre. 

On  the  voyage  I  was  introduced  to  the  American 
game  of  poker,  and  I  was  quite  fortunate,  at  least 
I  thought  so  at  the  time;  but  a  disastrous  experi- 
ence later  led  me  to  change  my  opinion.  Alto- 
gether the  voyage  was  very  pleasant,  and  my  fel- 
low travelers  exceedingly  courteous  and  agreeable. 

In  the  morning  of  Sunday,  July  26,  I  awoke  to 
find  myself  in  New  York  harlDor.  We  had  arrived 
during  the  night,  and  were  anchored  at  the  quar- 
antine station,  having  made  the  trip  in  ten  days, 
an  excellent  record  at  that  time. 

I  was  in  America.  In  the  distance  I  saw  the 
city  of  New  York,  and  the  tall  towers  for  the 
Brooklyn  Bridge,  not  yet  completed.  I  saw  the 
big  ferry  boats  with  their  huge  walking  beams; 
the  tugs  bustling  about;  the  ships  at  anchor;  the 
great  round  emigrant  building  at  Castle  Garden, 
everything  seemed  so  big  and  so  busy.  A  feeling 
of  awe,  akin  to  fear,  seemed  to  possess  me  as  I 
looked  round  the  harbor.  What  would  be  my  fate 
in  this  new  land?    Would  they  like  me?    Would  I 


86     riFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

be  successful?    These  were  my  thoughts  as  we 
came  up  the  bay. 

We  reached  our  slip,  a  crowd  was  on  the  dock 
to  welcome  us.  Before  the  gangways  were  low- 
ered, a  big  tall  man  on  the  dock  shouted  to  the 
captain:  "Have  you  got  Fred  Warde  aboard?" 
Surprised  beyond  measure,  I  inquired  who  he  was 
and  learned  he  was  an  officer  of  the  customs, 
known  as  "Baby"  Bliss,  a  great  friend  of  my  new 
managers,  Messrs.  Jarrett  and  Palmer.  Subse- 
quently he  became  a  great  friend  of  mine.  Many 
greetings  of  welcome,  and  many  good  wishes  were 
expressed  as  I  landed  on  the  dock.  "Baby"  Bliss 
passed  my  baggage  and  piloted  me  to  the  Metro- 
politan Hotel,  then  on  Broadway,  near  Houston 
street. 

The  following  day  I  reported  at  the  theatre  and 
met  my  new  managers  for  the  first  time.  I  found 
them  most  affable  and  friendly.  They  treated  me 
with  more  familiarity  than  I  had  been  accustomed 
to  from  managers  in  England,  made  me  feel  very 
welcome,  and  I  began  to  realize  the  meaning  of 
American  democracy. 

This  impression  was  emphasized  at  the  first  re- 
hearsal, when  I  met  John  McCullough,  little 
dreaming  that  our  first  meeting  was  to  be  the 
beginning  of  several  years  of  close  association. 

John  McCullough  was  one  of  the  leading  trage- 
dians of  the  American  stage;  a  big  broad-shoul- 
dered man  with  a  large  head  and  strong  features. 
He  looked  to  me  more  like  a  farmer  than  an  actor. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     87 

His  manner  was  akin  to  his  appearance;  frank, 
open  and  honest. 

He  gave  me  a  most  cordial  greeting  and  made 
me  feel  that  I  had  met  a  friend;  in  fact,  every 
member  of  the  company  received  me  with  the 
warmest  expression  of  good  will,  and  before  the 
first  rehearsal  was  over  I  was  very  much  at  home 
with  them. 

On  Monday  evening  I  joined  a  party  of  gentle- 
men that  included  Mr.  Toole  and  Mr.  Loveday 
to  see  the  first  performance  on  any  stage  of  Rice's 
"Evangeline,"  at  Niblo's  Theatre.  The  cast  in- 
cluded Mr.  W.  H.  Crane  and  Mr.  George  L.  Knight, 
both  of  whom  enjoyed  great  popularity  for  many 
years.  Mr.  Knight  has  passed  away,  but  Mr. 
Crane,  affectionately  known  as  "Billy"  Crane, 
still  lives,  and  with  hosts  of  admiring  friends 
throughout  the  country  I  join  in  the  hope  that  he 
may  long  remain  with  us  and  enjoy  his  distin- 
guished position  as  the  Dean  of  American  Come- 
dians. 

After  the  performance  at  Niblo's  we  were  taken 
across  Broadway  to  Tony  Pastor's  Theatre  to 
see  and  be  presented  to  the  most  beautiful  girl  on 
the  American  stage,  Miss  Lillian  Russell.  After 
our  introduction  we  were  all  ready  to  acknowledge 
the  lady  fully  justified  the  distinction,  and  time 
has  matured  but  not  diminished  the  beauty  of  her 
youth. 

Booth's  Theatre,  New  York,  in  1874,  was  prob- 
ably the  most  complete  and  beautiful  in  the  coun- 


88     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

try.    It  had  been  built  some  years  before  by 
Edwin  Booth  without  consideration  of  the  cost. 

The  entrance  was  imposing,  the  foyer  and  stair- 
cases lofty  and  wide,  and  the  entire  scheme  of 
decoration  of  the  theatre  proper,  dignified  and 
beautiful. 

The  stage  had  all  of  the  latest  mechanical  ap- 
pliances and  inventions,  the  Green  Room  was  at- 
tractive, the  dressing-rooms  spacious,  convenient 
and  comfortable. 

The  entire  building  was  worthy  of  its  distin- 
guished founder  and  the  purpose  he  had  in  view, 
which  he  told  me  later  was  to  leave  a  lasting  monu- 
ment to  the  name  of  his  father,  the  late  Junius 
Brutus  Booth,  and  himself. 

It  was  a  calamity,  not  only  for  Mr.  Booth,  but 
to  the  drama  and  to  the  country  when  financial 
reverses,  caused  by  the  great  obligations  he  had 
incurred  in  its  erection,  compelled  him  to  give  it 
up. 

The  theatre  was  now  leased  by  Messrs.  Jarrett 
&  Palmer,  and  was  reopened  under  their  manage- 
ment on  August  10, 1874,  with  a  new  play  by  Dion 
Boucicault,  called  "Belle  Lamar,"  in  which  John 
McCuUough  was  to  make  his  first  appearance  in 
a  modern  part,  and  I  to  make  my  first  appearance 
in  America. 

Belle  Lamar  was  a  play  of  the  Civil  War  period. 
John  McCuUough  played  the  part  of  Col.  Philip 
Bligh,  and  I,  that  of  Capt.  Marston  Pike,  both  oflS- 
cers  in  the  Union  army.  The  cast  also  included 
Eatherine  Rogers  Randolph,  an  English  actress  of 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     89 

repute,  and  Frank  Mackay,  a  very  brilliant  char- 
acter actor  who  played  the  part  of  Gen.  Stonewall 
Jackson,  the  celebrated  Confederate  leader. 

Mr.  Mackay  afterward  was  a  prominent  member 
of  the  Union  Square  Company,  was  the  original  of 
the  character  of  Pierre,  the  cripple,  in  the  "Two 
Orphans,"  and  is  now  more  than  80  years  of  age, 
yet  is  still  in  active  life,  a  teacher  of  acting  and 
public  speaking  and  officer  of  the  Actors'  Fund  of 
America. 

Dion  Boucicault,  of  course,  directed  the  pro- 
duction of  his  play,  and  introduced  some  novel 
effects  in  the  battle  scenes,  but  how  he  could  have 
permitted  John  McCuUough  to  appear  in  a  brand 
new  and  modern  uniform  of  the  United  States 
cavalry  with  bright  gilt  buttons  and  brilliant 
epaulettes,  when  on  active  service  in  a  long  and 
strenuous  campaign,  I  could  never  understand,  but 
he  did. 

I  was  fortunate  enough  to  make  a  favorable  im- 
pression and  received  very  flattering  notice  from 
the  press;  but  the  play  was  not  a  great  success 
and  was  withdrawn  after  a  short  run. 

Shortly  after  the  production  of  ''Belle  Lamar" 
at  Booth's  Theatre,  Mr.  John  L.  Toole,  the  Eng- 
lish comedian,  made  his  American  debut  at  Wal- 
lack's  Theatre  in  a  play  by  Henry  J.  B3n:on  called 
"Wig  and  Gown." 

The  choice  of  this  play  for  Mr.  Toole's  first  ap- 
pearance was  unfortunate.  The  plot  was  based 
upon  the  love  and  loyalty  of  a  poor,  brieflless  bar- 
rister for  his  wig  and  gown,  the  symbols  of  his 


90     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BEUEVE 

profession,  which  he  is  obliged  to  sacrifice  on  ac- 
count of  poverty.  As  neither  wig  nor  gown  were 
used  in  American  courts  of  law  at  that  time,  the 
audience  could  not  sjntnpathize  with  his  grief  at 
the  loss  of  such  apparently  superfluous  articles, 
and  the  play  did  not  please. 

There  was  then  no  international  copyright  law. 
Mr.  Toole's  popular  plays  "Dearer  Than  Life" 
and  "Uncle  Dick's  Darling"  had  already  been 
played  in  this  country  by  American  comedians, 
and  it  was  not  until  he  presented  "Off  the  Line,"  a 
play  of  universal  human  sjonpathy,  that  Mr.  Toole 
received  the  recognition  his  talents  deserved. 

After  Mr.  Toole's  engagement,  a  new  Irish  play 
by  Dion  Boucicault  called  "The  Shaughran"  was 
produced  at  Wallack's  in  which  Mr.  H.  J.  Monta- 
gue, a  very  handsome  and  popular  young  English 
actor,  made  his  first  appearance.  He  was  an  im- 
mediate success  and  remained  at  Wallack's 
Theatre  playing  a  number  of  parts  for  several 
years. 

Mr.  Montague  died  in  San  Francisco  in  1878, 
under  circumstances  that  I  shall  describe  later. 

But  to  return  to  Booth's  Theatre.  "Belle 
Lamar"  was  followed  by  the  revival  of  a  very 
old  play,  "Venice  Preserved,"  by  Thomas  Otway. 
Mr.  Boucicault  had  revised  the  play  and  intro- 
duced a  very  eloquent  passage  of  powerful  invec- 
tive from  Byron's  Marino  Faliero,  which  John 
McCullough  delivered  in  the  character  of  Pierre. 
I  played  the  part  of  Jaffier. 

"Venice  Preserved"  introduced  a  young  Eng- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     91 

lish  actress,  Miss  Fanny  Brough,  to  America  in 
the  part  of  Belvidera. 

Belvidera  was  a  very  heavy  tragic  role.  Unfor- 
tunately Miss  Brough,  who  was  charmingly  effec- 
tive as  a  domestic  heroine,  was  utterly  inade- 
quate to  the  demands  of  a  part  like  Belvidera,  and 
the  poor  little  lady  terminated  her  engagement 
and  returned  to  England  at  the  end  of  the  first 
week. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing  there  were 
four  important  theatres  in  New  York,  all  bearing 
the  individual  stamp  of  their  respective  managers, 
gentlemen  of  culture  and  purpose,  who  took  great 
pride  in  the  excellence  and  personnel  of  their  com- 
panies, notably  Wallack's  Theatre  by  Mr.  Lester 
Wallack,  Daly's  Theatre  by  Augustin  Daly,  the 
Union  Square  Theatre  by  Messrs.  Sheridan,  Shook 
and  A.  M.  Palmer,  and  Booth's  Theatre,  by, 
Mesrss.  Harry  Palmer  and  Henry  Jarrett. 

The  principal  members  of  these  companies  tab- 
ulated below  include  the  names  of  many  ladies 
and  gentlemen  who  were  held  in  great  esteem  at 
the  time  and  several  of  whom  subsequently 
achieved  national  distinction.  Their  loyal  serv- 
ice and  personal  integrity  gained  for  them  an  af- 
fectionate regard,  which  the  present  system  of 
itinerancy,  except  in  a  few  instances,  does  not  af- 
ford: 

Wallack's — ^H.  J.  Montague,  John  Gilbert,  Harry 
Beckett,  Joseph  Polk,  Ada  Dyas,  Madame  Ponisi,  Effie 
Germon, 


92     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Daly's — George  Clarke,  Louis  James,  James  Lewis, 
W.  J.  Lemoyne,  Fanny  Davenport,  Mrs.  Gilbert,  Ada 
Gilman. 

Union  Square — C.  R.  Thome,  Jr.,  McKee  Rankin, 
John  Parselle,  Stuart  Robson,  Kate  Claxton,  Mrs.  Wil- 
kins,  Kitty  Blanchard,  Ida  Vernon. 

Booth's— F.  B.  Warde,  E.  K.  Collier,  H.  A.  Weaver, 
Charles  Leclerq,  H.  A.  Langdon,  Rosa  Rand,  Mary 
Wells. 

Each  theatre  had  a  distinct  policy  and  a  clien- 
tele that  took  not  only  an  interest  in  the  play  but 
in  the  individual  performances  of  each  member  of 
the  cast. 

A  memorable  event  occurred  at  Booth's  Theatre 
during  my  first  season  there — ^the  farewell  per- 
formances of  Charlotte  Cushman,  and  her  final  ap- 
pearance on  the  New  York  stage. 

Charlotte  Cushman  was  a  wonderful  woman, 
masculine  and  strong  in  spite  of  her  advanced 
years,  with  a  homely  face,  but  with  gentle  man- 
ners and  a  gracious  kindness  to  all  with  whom  she 
came  in  contact. 

At  the  time  she  was  rehearsing  and  playing  with 
us  she  was  suffering  from  a  very  painful  disease 
that  ultimately  caused  her  death,  and  we  were  cau- 
tioned to  be  very  considerate  and  careful  if  the 
business  of  the  play  necessitated  any  personal  con- 
tact with  her. 

Miss  Cushman  belonged  to  what  is  known  as  the 
"Macready  School."  She  spoke  her  lines  with 
great  precision  and  with  remarkable  clearness  of 


Edwin  Booth  as  Bichelieu 


FIFT^^ YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     93 

enunciation,  especially  emphasizing"  her  O's  and 
R's.  Her  business  was  definitely  studied,  and  all 
of  her  movements  and  gestures  significantly  ex- 
act. 

The  engagement,  as  I  remember,  was  for  three 
weeks,  and  Miss  Cushman  appeared  in  three  of 
her  greatest  parts:  Queen  Katherine  in  "Henry 
VIII,"  Meg  Merrilies  in  a  dramatic  version  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott's  novel  "Guy  Mannering,"  and  as 
Lady  Macbeth. 

George  Vandenhoff,  a  tragedian  of  note,  was 
specially  engaged  for  the  parts  of  Cardinal  Wol- 
sey  in  "Henry  VIII,"  and  "Macbeth."  Mr.  Van- 
denhoff's  Wolsey  was  an  impressive  performance, 
but  in  "Macbeth"  a  rheumatic  or  gouty  condition 
of  his  nether  extremities  compelled  him  to  wear 
soft  felt  shoes  and  to  walk  with  difficulty,  which 
somewhat  destroyed  the  illusion  of  that  hardy 
Scottish  chieftain,  the  Thane  of  Cawdor. 

I  had  the  privilege  of  playing  the  parts  of 
Cromwell  in  "King  Henry  VIII,"  Macduff  in 
"Macbeth"  and  Henry  Bertram  in  "Guy  ,Man- 
nering"  with  this  wonderful  woman  and  great 
actress. 

Our  houses  were  packed  to  the  doors  at  every 
performance  and  on  the  last  night  of  Miss  Cush- 
man's  engagement,  November  7,  1874,  a  great 
demonstration  of  esteem  and  affection,  in  which 
the  Mayor  and  leading  citizens  of  New  York  par- 
ticipated, took  place  at  the  end  of  the  perform- 
ance. 

The  play  was  "Macbeth."    At  its  conclusion 


94     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Miss  Cushman  appeared  on  the  stage  in  modem 
dress,  surrounded  by  the  company  and  a  large 
number  of  citizens.  An  address  was  read  and  pre- 
sented to  her  on  the  part  of  the  city  by  William 
Cullen  Bryant,  an  original  poem  especially  writ- 
ten by  Richard  Henry  Stoddard  was  recited,  a 
laurel  wreath  presented  by  the  Arcadian  Club, 
and  after  the  response  the  curtain  fell  to  the  music 
of  a  great  orchestra  and  the  cheers  and  bravos  of 
the  immense  audience  assembled  to  do  honor  to 
probably  the  greatest  actress  that  ever  trod  the 
American  stage. 

But  that  was  not  all.  When  Miss  Cushman  left 
the  theatre  and  entered  her  carriage  the  people  in 
the  street  took  out  the  horses  and  attaching  a 
Jong  rope  to  it,  dragged  it  from  the  theatre  to 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  where  another  demon- 
stration took  place  that  included  music,  speeches 
and  a  grand  display  of  fireworks  in  Madison 
Square. 

The  same  company  that  had  supported  Miss 
Cushman  at  Booth's  Theatre  went  with  her  to 
play  a  final  week  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  Phila- 
delphia. 

The  same  plays  were  presented,  and  the  great 
academy  was  packed  at  every  performance.  The 
enthusiasm  was  great,  and  her  final  appearance 
an  ovation. 

On  the  last  night  of  our  Philadelphia  engage- 
ment Miss  Cushman  paid  me  the  great  compli- 
ment of  saying:  "It  was  reserved  for  her  last 
performance  of  'Macbeth'  to  witness  the  best 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     95 

rendition  of  Macduff  she  had  ever  seen,"  and  un- 
solicited, gave  me  an  autographed  portrait  of  her- 
self, which  I  still  possess  and  which  occupies  an 
honored  place  on  the  walls  of  my  library. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  Season  of  Important  Productions  and  Distin- 
guished Successes. 

The  next  production  at  Booth's  Theatre  was  a 
very  picturesque  and  romantic  melodrama  called 
"The  Hero  of  the  Hour,"  introducing  a  young 
Prench  actor,  Henri  Stuart,  to  America,  but  al- 
though M.  Stuart  made  a  most  favorable  impres- 
sion the  play  failed  to  please  and  was  withdrawn 
in  favor  of  an  adaptation  of  Dickens's  novel 
"David  Copperfield"  by  Andrew  Halliday  and 
called  "Little  Em'ly." 

George  Fawcett  Rowe  in  a  most  unique  and  ef- 
fective impersonation  of  Wilkins  Micawber  was 
the  feature  of  the  production. 

I  was  originally  cast  for  the  part  of  Ham,  but 
I  desired  to  play  old  Dan'l  Peggotty  as  I  was  very 
familiar  with  that  type  of  character,  having  lived 
at  Yarmouth  and  known  many  of  the  old  boatmen 
on  the  beach,  and  had  learned  their  dialect. 

After  some  discussion,  the  management  yielded 
to  my  wishes,  and  I  am  happy  to  say  I  justified 
myself  by  making  a  most  emphatic  success  in  the 
part. 

The  cast  was  a  splendid  one  and  included  Miss 

96 


E.  L.  Davenport  as  Brutus  in   "Julius  Caesar" 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     97 

Maud  Granger  as  Little  Em'ly,  Helen  Tracy  as 
Rose  Dartle,  Mary  Wells  as  Betsy  Trotwood,  H.  A. 
Weaver  as  Ham,  Charles  Leclerq  as  Uriah  Heep 
and  Claude  Burroughs,  who  afterward  met  his 
death  in  the  Brooklyn  Theatre  fire,  as  David  Cop- 
perfield. 

The  play  was  intended  to  run  for  one  week  only, 
but  its  success  was  so  great  it  was  retained  in  the 
bill  for  six  weeks  and  played  to  splendid  business. 

It  was  in  this  play  that  I  was  confirmed  by  prac- 
tical experience  in  my  theory  that  the  province 
of  an  actor  is  to  simulate  feeling,  not  to  feel— in 
other  words  to  act,  and  not  to  be. 

I  was  taking  luncheon  with  my  friend  Lawrence 
Hutton,  when  he  said:  "I  am  told  you  have  made 
quite  a  hit  as  old  Peggotty.  I  am  coming  to  see 
you  this  afternoon,  so  don't  give  a  modified  mati- 
nee performance,  but  do  your  best." 

I  went  to  the  theatre  determined  to  impress 
my  friend,  and  threw  myself  with  intensity  into 
the  part,  so  much  so,  that  in  the  scene  where  I 
had  to  describe  with  deep  pathos  my  wanderings 
in  search  of  my  erring  niece,  I  lost  control  of  my 
emotions  and  fell  sobbing  on  the  shoulder  of 
Claude  Burroughs,  who  was  on  the  stage  with  me. 
It  was  some  moments  before  I  could  proceed.  The 
stEige  manager  thought  I  was  ill,  and  sent  the  call 
boy  running  for  water.  The  leader  of  the  orches- 
tra left  his  seat  and  wanted  to  call  a  physician. 
Poor  Burroughs  tried  to  restore  me  and  the  audi- 
ence was  getting  restless  and  uncomfortable  until 
by  a  supreme  effort  I  controlled  myself  and  pro- 


98     FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

ceeded  with  the  dialogue,  but  the  effect  of  the 
scene  had  been  entirely  lost. 

By  simulating  emotion  I  had  moved  my  audi- 
ence to  tears,  but  by  suffering  the  same  emotion 
I  had  lost  control  both  of  myself  and  them,  and 
instead  of  seeing  Dan'l  Peggotty  and  hearing  his 
pathetic  recital  of  his  travels,  they  saw  only  an 
actor  apparently  in  pain,  struggling  to  speak  his 
lines. 

On  meeting  Mr.  Hutton  afterward  he  compli- 
mented me  on  the  general  performance  of  the 
part,  but  asked:  "What  was  the  matter  with  you 
in  that  scene  with  Claude  Burroughs?  You  were 
incoherent  and  mixed  it  up  completely.  Some 
people  sitting  behind  me  said  you  had  been  drink- 
ing. I  knew  that  was  not  so,  but  what  was  it? 
Were  you  ill?" 

I  explained  the  situation  to  Mr.  Hutton,  and 
ever  since  have  acted  on  the  theory  that  the  prov- 
ince of  an  actor  is  to  thoroughly  understand  the 
emotions  he  has  to  portray  and  then  act,  not  feel 
them. 

It  was  David  Garrick  who  asserted,  "The  great- 
est actor  was  the  man  who  could  make  the  audi- 
ence cry  and  the  prompter  laugh  at  the  same 
time,"  and  I  cordially  agree  with  him. 

I  was  privileged  to  see  and  meet  quite  a  number 
of  prominent  American  actors  and  actresses  at 
Booth's  Theatre  during  my  first  season  there, 
notably  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barney  Williams  in  Irish 
plays,  Mr.  Joseph  Jefferson  in  Rip  Van  Winkle, 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE     99 

Mr.  John  Sleeper  Clarke,  the  comedian,  and  Miss 
Matilda  Heron. 

Miss  Matilda  Heron  was  quite  an  eccentric  lady. 
She  had  been  the  great  Camille  on  the  American 
stage,  but  on  the  occasion  to  which  I  refer  she 
played  Lady  Macbeth.  Mr.  Vandenhoff  was  the 
Macbeth,  and  I  played  Macduff. 

The  sleep  walking  scene  of  Lady  Macbeth  fol- 
lows the  one  in  which  Macduff  receives  the  news 
of  the  murder  of  his  wife  and  children,  and  termi- 
nates with  the  agonized  father  swearing  to  avenge 
them  as  he  rushes  off  the  stage.  Miss  Heron  was 
standing  in  the  entrance  clad  in  a  white  garment 
and  holding  a  lighted  lamp  in  her  hand,  watching 
the  scene.  As  I  rushed  off,  she  dropped  the  lamp, 
opened  her  arms,  threw  them  round  my  neck, 
kissed  me  on  both  cheeks,  exclaiming,  "By  God, 
Warde,  you're  a  trump!"  recovered  her  lamp  be- 
fore I  recovered  from  my  surprise,  and  went  on 
with  her  scene. 

The  feature  production  of  the  season  was 
Shakespeare's  "Henry  the  Fifth,"  brought  over 
in  its  entirety  from  the  Prince's  Theatre,  Man-/ 
Chester,  Eng.,  and  reproduced  here  under  the  di- 
rection of  Mr.  Charles  Calvert,  who  came  over 
from  England  for  the  purpose. 

"Henry  V"  was  probably  the  most  elaborate  re- 
vival of  any  Shakespearean  play  that  had  been 
made  in  this  country.  The  scenery  was  magnifi- 
cent; the  properties,  armors,  heraldic  devices  and 
costumes  were  copied  from  authoritative  sources, 


100   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

and  the  company  especially  selected  for  its  pres- 
entation. 

Mr.  George  Rignold,  a  prominent  English  actor, 
was  engaged  for  the  King,  Mr.  Fred  Thorne  for 
Capt.  Fuellin,  and  Mrs.  Charles  Calvert  for  Ru- 
mor, as  Chorus. 

I  was  cast  for  Williams,  a  blunt  English  soldier, 
a  relatively  unimportant  part,  if  any  speaking  part 
in  Shakespeare's  plays  can  be  unimportant,  on 
the  promise  that  as  soon  as  the  play  was  running 
smoothly  I  should  be  permitted  to  retire  from  the 
cast  to  go  to  England  to  bring  my  family  over. 

The  cast  of  Henry  V  included  Henri  Stuart,  as 
the  Dauphin  of  France,  Henry  "Weaver  as  the 
Duke  of  Exeter,  E.  K.  Collier  as  Mount  joy,  Charles 
Leclerq  as  Bardolph,  C.  B.  Bishop  as  Pistol,  Miss 
Mary  Wells  as  Dame  Quickly,  and  many  others. 

The  play  was  a  very  great  success,  but  George 
Rignold,  who  subsequently  made  the  success  of 
his  career  as  the  King,  was  far  from  satisfactory 
on  the  first  night. 

In  appearance  he  was  the  perfection  of  hand- 
some, heroic  manhood,  a  veritable  Greek  god  in 
his  regal  robes  and  shining  armor,  but  the  magni- 
tude of  the  production,  and  the  importance  of  the 
occasion,  made  poor  George  excessively  nervous. 
He  forgot  his  lines,  was  confused  in  the  business 
and  completely  lost  his  self-control. 

The  management  became  alarmed,  so  much  so, 
that  I  was  instructed— as  soon  as  I  was  through 
with  my  part— to  go  home,  study  the  part  of  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    101 

king"  and  report  for  rehearsal  the  next  morning,  as 
perfect  as  possible. 

I  spent  the  night  in  concentrated  study,  keeping 
awake  by  the  aid  of  black  coffee  and  cracked  ice, 
and  by  the  time  for  rehearsal  was  practically  per- 
fect, but  a  night's  rest  after  the  excitement  of  the 
first  performance  had  restored  Rignold  to  his  nor- 
mal condition;  he  rehearsed  splendidly,  and  on  the 
second  night  and  thereafter  played  the  part  with 
so  much  dignity,  grace  and  skill  that  he  estab- 
lished himself  as  one  of  the  most  popular  actors 
England  had  sent  to  this  country. 

Frederick  Thome,  the  comedian,  made  a  most 
distinguished  success  as  Capt.  Fuellin,  second  only 
to  that  of  Mr.  Rignold.  His  slight,  trim  figure, 
martial  bearing,  and  Welsh  accent  fitting  the  part 
perfectly. 

I  cannot  conceive  of  the  three  rogues,  Pistol,  the 
braggart,  the  bibulous  Bardolph  and  Nym,  the 
pickpocket,  being  in  better  hands  than  those  of 
C.  B.  Bishop,  Charles  Leclerq  and  Edwin  Irving. 
In  fact  the  entire  cast  was  admirable  and  well  de- 
served the  success  achieved. 

The  heavy  plate  armors  worn  by  the  actors  were 
somewhat  uncomfortable,  and  several  minor  acci- 
dents occurred  from  the  mailed  feet  which  were 
very  long  and  pointed. 

One  unlucky  warrior  tripped  at  the  top  of  a 
flight  of  stairs  leading  to  the  stage  and  rolled  down 
to  the  bottom,  making  a  noise  like  a  thousand  tin 
cans  in  motion.  It  happened  in  a  quiet  scene,  of 
course.    King  Henry  was  on  his  knees  and  had 


102  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

just  begun  the  prayer  with  the  line,  "Oh,  God  of 
Battles,  steel  my  soldiers'  hearts!"  when  the  crash 
came.  The  interpolations  by  Mr.  Rignold,  into 
that  prayer,  as  the  poor  warrior  struggled  to  re- 
cover himself,  were  vivid  and  picturesque,  but  not 
adapted  for  publication. 

An  amusing  incident  occurred  in  the  scene  in 
which  Fluellin  compels  Pistol  to  eat  the  leek  that 
he  (Fluellin)  wears  in  his  cap  on  St.  David's  Day, 
and  which  Pistol  has  insulted.  It  has  to  be  done 
near  the  footlights,  and  pretense  is  impossible. 
A  property  leek  with  a  tube  in  which  a  piece  of 
apple  was  inserted  was  the  usual  method  em- 
ployed, and  Mr.  Bishop,  who  had  a  great  aver- 
sion to  onions  in  any  form,  ate  the  apple  without 
discomfort,  but  one  night  the  property  leek  was 
lost  or  misplaced;  a  real  leek  was  substituted,  and 
poor  Bishop  had  to  eat  the  nauseating  vegetable  at 
which  his  stomach  revolted  in  full  view  of  the  au- 
dience. Pistol's  concluding  line  in  the  scene, 
"All  hell  shall  stir  for  this,"  had  a  stronger  sig- 
nificance than  usual. 

"Henry  V"  had  quite  a  long  run  on  its  first  pro- 
duction and  later  in  the  season  was  revived  and 
was  played  successfully  for  five  weeks  more. 

By  this  time  I  had  many  warm  friends  in  New 
York,  and  on  my  twenty-fourth  birthday,  Febru- 
ary 23,  a  dinner  was  given  in  my  honor  at  the  Ar- 
cadian Club,  of  which  I  had  been  elected  a  mem- 
ber. The  guests  included  Lawrence  Hutton,  Clar- 
ence Livingston,  Henry  Palmer,  Dan  Gillette, 
J.  L.  Toole,  J.  J.  0 'Kelly,  the  dramatic  critic  oi 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    103 

the  New  York  Herald,  who  afterward  became  a 
member  of  the  British  Parliament,  George  Rig- 
nold,  Dan  Harkins  and  George  W.  Howe,  the 
dramatic  critic  of  the  Evening  Express,  who  read 
the  following  poem: 

"Come  and  award  to  Warde  the  praise  that's  due 
For  Wilhams,  Pegotty  and  Macduff  too. 
But  yesterday  we  George's  praises  rang 
But  yesternight  on  Frederick's  praises  sang. 
Thus  to  good  men  we  all  do  show  regard, 
And  George  and  Frederick  both  had  their  reward. 
So  with  the  Motherland  we  all  shake  hands, 
And  fasten  closer  true  and  filial  bands. 
So  does  the  Motherland  adorn  our  stage. 
And  so  do  we  accept  the  gentle  gage. 
Thus  let  it  ever  be,  'twixt  mother,  son. 
And  we  thank  England  for  the  good  she's  done 
In  sending  us  across  the  stormy  sea 
Actors  who  claim  the  critic's  fealty. 
Let  us  bestow  upon  them  kindly  words, 
And  give  to  Frederick  B.  his  just  rewards." 
"Henry  V"  had  been  running  four  weeks  with 
every  prospect  of  continuing  for  some  time  when, 
on  a  Monday  morning,  Mr.  Jarrett  sent  for  me  and 
said:    "You  want  to  go  to  England  to  bring  your 
wife  over.  We  can  spare  you  from  the  cast,  so  now 
is  the  time  to  go.    The  Abyssinia  of  the  Cunard 
Line  sails  on  Wednesday.    Take  that  steamer,  but 
be  sure  and  return  in  time  to  support  Miss  Neil- 
son,  who  follows  'Henry  V.'  "    Then  as  an  after- 
thought:   "You  had  better  cable  your  wife  that 
you  are  coming." 


104  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Two  days  seemed  a  short  time  to  prepare  for  an 
ocean  voyage,  but  I  had  already  discovered  that 
things  were  done  rapidly  in  America,  so  I  as  rap- 
idly made  my  arrangements  to  follow  Mr.  Jarrett's 
instructions. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  was  in  receipt  of  a 
good  salary,  dollars  were  none  too  plentiful  with 
me  and  transatlantic  telegrams  were  expensive,  so 
I  made  my  cable  to  Mrs.  Warde  as  brief  as  pos- 
sible, simply  saying:  "Sail  on  Wednesday,"  and 
I  sailed. 

On  arriving  at  Liverpool— I  had  wired  again 
from  Queenstown  the  time  of  my  arrival— I  was 
met  by  my  wife's  sister.  I  inquired  for  my  wife. 
"She's  gone!"  "Gone  where?"  I  asked.  "To 
America!"  "When?"  "On  Wednesday,  a  week 
ago  as  you  directed  in  your  telegram!" 

Mrs.  Warde  had  taken  my  cable  for  instructions 
instead  of  information  and  had  sailed  on  the  Guion 
Line  steamer  Idaho  from  Liverpool  the  same  day 
I  had  sailed  from  New  York. 

To  make  the  play  of  cross  purposes  complete,  we 
had  passed  the  Idaho  in  mid-ocean  and  saluted  her 
according  to  custom,  neither  my  wife  nor  myself 
dreaming  of  the  comedy  of  errors  that  was  in 
progress. 

I  cabled  immediately  to  my  friend  "Baby"  Bliss 
of  the  customs,  who  met  the  Idaho,  fortunately  a 
slower  ship  than  the  Abyssinia,  explained  my  ab- 
sence to  my  wife,  and  took  her  to  some  mutual 
friends  who  cared  for  her  until  I  returned. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    105 

I  disposed  of  my  house  in  Liverpool,  took  a 
hasty  trip  to  London,  and  in  four  days  was  on  my 
return  trip  by  the  White  Star  steamer  Republic, 
arriving  in  New  York  within  twenty-four  days  of 
my  departure  with  the  firm  determination  to  prac- 
tice economy  in  other  ways  than  by  abbreviating 
telegrams  in  the  future. 

The  story  of  my  misadventure,  was,  of  course, 
too  good  to  keep.  The  newspapers  published  it 
and  for  some  time  I  had  to  endure  with  the  best 
grace  I  could  assume  the  jesting  of  my  friends  who 
saw  more  humor  in  the  incident  than  I  did. 

The  first  run  of  "Henry  V"  came  to  an  end,  and 
Adelaide  Neilson  appeared  as  Amy  Robsart,  in  a 
dramatization  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  novel  "Kenil- 
worth,"  in  which  I  played  the  Earl  of  Leicester. 

My  reappearance  was  announced  **  after  his  trip 
to  Europe"  and  a  number  of  friends,  including  a 
delegation  from  the  Arcadian  Club,  were  present 
to  greet  me. 

Following  several  lines  of  eager  anticipation 
spoken  by  Amy,  the  Earl  of  Leicester  makes  a 
quick  entrance  enveloped  in  a  large  riding  cloak, 
concealing  a  very  handsome,  heavily  jeweled  cos- 
tume beneath.  After  an  affectionate  greeting, 
Amy  should  lead  the  Earl  to  a  seat  on  a  slightly 
raised  dais,  remove  his  cloak  disclosing  his  gor- 
geous dress,  and  then  sit  at  his  feet  in  adoring  ad- 
miration. 

My  entrance  was  through  an  arched  opening. 
A  bar  of  wood  about  three  inches  high  was  the 


106  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

base  of  the  arch.  I  caught  my  foot  against  this 
bar  and  pitched  headlong  on  the  stage,  leaving  a 
shoe  behind  me.  My  cloak  flew  in  one  direction, 
my  hat  in  another,  whilst  I  lay  like  a  spread  eagle 
in  all  my  finery  on  the  floor  in  the  center  of  the 
stage. 

The  audience  roared  with  laughter.  Miss  Neil- 
son  was  convulsed.  I  scrambled  to  my  feet, 
abashed  and  mortified.  The  good-natured  audi- 
ence gave  me  a  hearty,  encouraging  round  of  ap- 
plause. Miss  Neilson  controlled  herself  and  we 
proceeded  with  the  play,  but  the  historic  dignity 
and  pride  of  Robert,  Earl  of  Leicester,  was  not 
greatly  in  evidence  for  some  time. 

In  spite  of  my  unfortunate  accident  the  play 
was  a  success.  Miss  Neilson  was  a  beautiful  Amy 
Robsart  and  acted  the  part  with  charming  sim- 
plicity in  the  earlier  scenes,  and  with  a  deep 
pathos  in  the  later  ones,  that  completely  capti- 
vated the  audience. 

The  cast  was  a  remarkably  strong  one,  and  in- 
cluded "Jack"  Studley,  a  great  Bowery  favorite 
as  Sir  Richard  Varney,  and  Miss  Ida  Vernon,  a 
splendid  actress,  who  is  still  living  and  now  over 
80  years  of  age,  as  Queen  Elizabeth. 

On  the  last  night  of  Miss  Neilson 's  engagement 
she  played  Pauline  in  "The  Lady  of  Lyons."  I 
played  Claude  Melnotte.  It  was  the  last  time  I 
had  the  privilege  of  playing  with  her.  She  made 
one  or  two  tours  of  this  country  with  her  own  com- 
pany, returned  to  Europe  and  died  shortly  after 
in  Paris. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   107 

As  I  look  back  over  the  intervening  years,  I  re- 
call her  performances  of  Juliet,  Rosalind  and 
Pauline  distinctly,  and  though  I  have  seen  many 
excellent  renditions  of  these  parts  by  ladies  of 
great  ability  and  personal  attraction,  I  have  never 
seen  the  equal  of  Adelaide  Neilson.  The  charm 
of  her  personal  beauty,  the  sweetness  of  her  voice, 
her  clear,  well  modulated  enunciation  and  her  ca- 
pacity for  deep  emotion,  combined  with  her  sin- 
cerity and  earnestness,  gave  a  quality  to  her  act- 
ing that  was  convincing  and  impressive. 

At  the  conclusion  of  Miss  Neilson's  engagement, 
an  unfortunate  performance  of  "Macbeth"  was 
given,  v/ith  George  Rignold  in  tiie  title  role,  and 
Clara  Morris  as  Lady  Macbeth.  George  Rignold 
had  made  a  remarkable  success  as  King  Henry 
the  Fifth,  and  Miss  Morris  was  a  great  emotional 
actress  of  national  reputation,  but  neither  of  them 
was  adapted  to  this  great  Shakespearean  tragedy. 
Mr.  Rignold  was  picturesque  and  virile  as  Mac- 
beth, but  entirely  lacking  in  poetic  imagination; 
while  Miss  Morris  as  his  wife  sought  to  charm 
her  husband  by  feminine  fascination  rather  than 
to  dominate  him  by  her  will. 

The  performance  attracted  a  very  large  audi- 
ence by  the  prominence  and  popularity  of  the  prin- 
cipals, but  it  was  a  general  disappointment. 

Miss  Morris  subsequently  appeared  in  a  very 
old  tragedy  called  "Jane  Shore"  in  which  she  was 
quite  successful  as  the  unhappy  mistress  of  King 
Edward  the  Fourth. 

One  or  two  benefit  performances  followed  and 


108  FIFTY  YEARS  OP  MAKE-BELIEVE 

brought  the  season,  my  first  in  America,  to  a  close. 
It  had  been  a  happy  one  to  me.  I  had  met  several 
of  the  most  prominent  stars  in  America.  I  had 
played  a  variety  of  parts  with  general  satisfaction. 
I  had  made  a  number  of  warm  admirers  and 
friends,  and  I  was  engaged  for  the  following  sea- 
son at  an  increased  salary. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
I  Meet  Edwin  Booth,  America's  Greatest  Actor. 

Mr.  Barry  Sullivan,  a  tragedian  of  Irish  birth 
and  striking  personality,  inaugurated  our  second 
season.  He  played  an  engagement  of  three  weeks 
in  "Richard  III,"  "Hamlet,"  "Richelieu,"  and 
"The  Gamester." 

Mr.  Sullivan  was  not  a  genial  gentleman  in  the 
theatre.  He  was  aggressively  domineering  and 
inclined  to  be  very  sarcastic.  He  did  not  admire 
American  democracy;  but  he  was  a  fine  actor,  the 
best  Duke  of  Gloster  in  "Richard  III"  I  ever  saw. 

Mr.  Sullivan  did  not  approve  of  elaborate 
scenery.  We  were  rehearsing  "Richard  III."  A 
very  fine  mediaeval  street  scene  that  Mr.  Booth 
had  used  in  the  same  play,  with  quaint  gables  and 
characteristic  architecture  was  set  for  the  second 
act,  but  Mr.  Sullivan  would  not  have  it.  He  said, 
"Take  it  away.  Give  me  a  simple  street  drop  and 
an  arch.  I  want  the  audience  to  look  at  me,  not  at 
the  scenery."  Throughout  his  engagement  he  in- 
sisted on  the  same  principle  of  simplicity,  assert- 
ing "Elaborate  scenic  display  attracts  the  atten- 
tion of  the  audience  from  the  play.  As  long  as  the 
scenery  is  not  inappropriate  their  imagination  will 
supply  the  details." 

109 


110  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Mr.  Sullivan  was  a  very  skillful  swordsman. 
At  the  close  of  the  play  of  Richard  III,  he  fought 
a  terrific  broadsword  combat  with  Mr.  James 
Cathcart  who  traveled  with  him,  playing  the  Earl 
of  Richmond.  It  was  a  fitting  climax  to  his  won- 
derfully virile  performance  of  the  bloodthirsty 
king. 

Beverley,  in  "The  Gamester,"  was  another 
striking  performance  of  Mr.  Sullivan.  "The 
Gamester"  was  a  very  old-fashioned  tragedy,  and 
only  the  powerful  acting  of  the  leading  part  by 
this  distinguished  actor  made  it  attractive. 

I  played  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  in  "Richard 
III";  Laertes,  in  "Hamlet";  De  Mauprat,  in 
"Richelieu";  and  Stukeley,  in  "The  Gamester"; 
with  Mr.  Sullivan. 

An  attempt  was  made  by  the  management  of  the 
Grand  Opera  House  in  New  York,  which  was  only 
two  blocks  removed  from  Booth's  Theatre,  to 
arouse  national  rivalry  and  prejudice  against  Mr. 
Sullivan  by  announcing  the  engagement  of  Mr. 
E.  L.  Davenport,  and  emphasizing  the  fact  that  he 
was  an  American  tragedian  and  was  supported  by 
an  American  company  in  practically  the  same  rep- 
ertoire of  plays  given  by  Mr.  Sullivan,  who  was 
announced  as  "The  Irish  Tragedian." 

Mr.  Davenport  was  a  very  fine  actor,  and  his 
company  individually  and  generally  excellent,  but 
the  attempt  to  create  any  feeling  of  national  pre- 
judice was  fortunately  unsuccessful. 

The  engagement  of  Barry  Sullivan  was  followed 
by  that  of  George  Belmore,  an  English  character 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   111 

actor  of  great  reputation  and  ability,  who  came  to 
this  country  under  the  management  of  Samuel  Col- 
ville. 

Mr.  Belmore  appeared  as  Nat  Gosling,  an  old 
jockey,  in  a  production  of  Dion  Boucicault's  rac- 
ing drama,  "The  Flying  Scud."  It  was  his  orig- 
inal creation  in  London,  and  he  made  a  great  suc- 
cess in  New  York  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
a  very  sick  man  during  the  entire  engagement. 
Mr.  Belmore  also  appeared  as  Newman  Noggs  in 
a  dramatic  version  of  Nicholas  Nickleby. 

I  played  in  both  productions  and  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  New  York  engagement  accompanied 
Mr.  Belmore  to  the  Brooklyn  Theatre  in  Brooklyn, 
where  on  the  Saturday  matinee  he  became  so  ill  it 
was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  he  finished  the 
play.  At  the  night  performance  I  played  the  old 
jockey,  studying  the  part  as  best  I  could  between 
the  two  performances. 

I  got  through  very  well  under  the  circumstances 
until  I  came  to  a  song  and  a  dance  with  the 
younger  jockeys.  The  dance  I  managed  fairly,  but 
the  song— well,  the  composer  would  not  have  rec- 
ognized it. 

"The  Flying  Scud"  introduced  Miss  Rosa  Rand 
as  leading  lady  to  Booth's  Theatre,  New  York, 
and  Miss  Maud  Harrison  to  the  stage  at  the 
Brookl3m  Theatre.  Both  ladies  subsequently  be- 
came very  popular  in  their  profession. 

The  Booth's  Theatre  Company  were  then  sent 
on  a  short  tour  of  the  New  England  towns  in  *  'The 
Two  Orphans."    This  play  had  been  produced  at 


112   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

the  Union  Square  Theatre  in  New  York,  and  had 
made  a  great  hit,  which  I  am  proud  to  say  we 
duplicated  on  our  tour. 

Our  cast  was  an  exceptionally  strong  one  and 
included:  H.  A.  Weaver,  as  the  Count  de  Linieres; 
Frank  C.  Bangs,  as  the  Chevalier  de  Vaudrey; 
E.  K.  Collier,  as  Jacques  Frochard;  F.  B.  Warde, 
as  Pierre,  the  cripple;  Rose  Rand,  as  Louise,  the 
blind  girl;  Rose  Lisle,  as  Henriette,  her  sister,  and 
Mary  Wells,  as  Mme.  Frochard. 

We  gave  the  first  performances  of  the  play  out- 
side of  New  York,  visiting  New  Haven,  Hartford, 
Springfield  and  Providence,  and  then  returned  to 
the  city. 

During  the  run  of  "Henry  the  Fifth,"  the  pre- 
ceding season,  Messrs.  Jarrett  and  Palmer  had  en- 
gaged George  Rignold  to  play  Marc  Antony  in  a 
grand  revival  of  Julius  Caesar  they  had  in  con- 
templation. The  proposition  being  a  quintette  of 
stars  in  the  five  principal  characters,  viz.: 

E.  L.  Davenport,  as  Brutus;  Lawrence  Barrett, 
as  Cassius;  George  Rignold,  as  Marc  Antony;  F.  B. 
Warde,  as  Julius  Caesar;  Frank  C.  Bangs,  as 
Casca. 

In  the  meantime  George  Rignold  made  a  visit  to 
England  and  discussed  the  proposed  arrangement 
with  his  friends,  who  advised  him  not  to  place  him- 
self in  such  direct  association  and  contrast  with 
two  such  popular  American  actors  as  Lawrence 
Barrett  and  E.  L.  Davenport. 

They  also  pointed  out  to  him  how  dependent  an 
actor  pla3dng  Marc  Antony  was  for  his  success 


Lawrence  Barrett 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    113 

upon  the  efficient  support  he  received  from  the 
mob  in  the  scene  of  his  address  over  the  body  of 
Caesar,  commonly  but  erroneously  called  Marc 
Antony's  oration,  and  suggested  that  a  feeling  of 
jealousy  on  the  part  of  the  American  actors  might 
work  to  his  disadvantage. 

Mr.  Rignold  was  evidently  impressed  by  these 
arguments,  for  on  his  return  to  America  he  de- 
clined to  play  the  part. 

Jarrett  and  Palmer  then  decided  to  make  it  a 
three  star  combination  with  Davenport,  Barrett 
and  Frank  Bangs  as  Marc  Antony. 

I  was  to  play  Julius  Caesar,  as  the  leading  man 
of  the  company,  but  was  not  to  be  starred. 

Though  I  was  by  no  means  entitled  to  stellar 
dignity  that  honor  had  been  promised  me  and  I 
had  been  proudly  anticipating  it  for  months.  I 
was  deeply  mortified  and  tendered  my  resigna- 
tion. 

Much  influence  was  brought  to  bear  on  me  to  re- 
consider the  matter,  but  my  pride,  or  perhaps  my 
vanity,  was  deeply  wounded  and  I  would  not  do 
so,  but  left  the  company. 

Mr.  Milnes  Levick  was  engaged  in  my  place. 
The  revival  of  Julius  Caesar  was  a  great  success 
and  had  a  very  long  run,  due  in  a  great  measure 
to  the  activities  of  Mr.  Joseph  Tooker,  better 
known  as  Commodore  Tooker,  the  acting  mana- 
ger of  the  theatre. 

Commodore  Tooker  was  a  man  of  much  orig- 
inality in  the  way  of  advertising,  and  I  say  it  with 
great  esteem  that  I  was  very  fond  of  him.    He 


114  FIFTY  TEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

displayed  considerable  audacity  in  carrying  out 
his  designs. 

He  secured  the  co-operation  of  Sam  Carpenter, 
the  good  natured  General  Passenger  Agent  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Railroad,  and  they  induced  that 
great  corporation,  as  well  as  the  other  connecting 
transcontinental  railroads  to  sidetrack  their  regu- 
lar passenger  trains  to  permit  "A  Special"  carry- 
ing Lawrence  Barrett,  and  Jarrett  and  Palmer's 
"Henry  the  Fifth"  company  to  make  the  journey 
from  New  York  to  San  Francisco  in  eighty-four 
hours.  The  feat  was  accomplished,  establishing  a 
world  record  and  resulted  in  an  advertisement  Tor 
Jarrett  and  Palmer  and  the  play  of  Henry  the 
Fifth  that  attracted  the  attention  of  the  entire 
country. 

He  endeavored  to  induce  the  State  Legislature 
at  Albany  to  adjourn  and  come  to  New  York  to  wit- 
ness a  performance  of  Julius  Caesar. 

Other  scehemes  of  more  or  less  magnitude  he 
originated  and  in  many  instances  succeeded  in 
carrying  them  to.a  successful  issue. 

I  have  seen  and  heard  of  much  of  the  work  of 
the  modern  publicity  or  press  agent,  but  I  do  not 
think  that  any  of  them  have  ever  conceived  and 
carried  out  such  great  advertising  schemes  as  did 
the  good  old  Commodore. 

As  I  look  back,  I  question  the  wisdom  of  my  ac- 
tion in  resigning  from  that  distinguished  cast  of 
Julius  Caesar,  but  discreet  or  otherwise,  fortune 
favored  me,  for  I  was  immediately  engaged  by 
John  T.  Ford  of  the  Grand  Opera  House  at  Balti- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   115 

more  to  act  as  principal  support  to  Edwin  Booth 
on  a  tour  of  the  South  to  begin  at  once. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  agreeable  to  me 
than  to  meet  and  be  so  prominently  associated 
with  the  most  distinguished  American  actor,  and 
to  play  in  such  a  congenial  repertoire  of  Shake- 
spearean and  classic  plays  that  included  "Ham- 
let," *'Othello,"  *'Richard  the  Second,"  "King 
Lear,"  "The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  "Much  Ado 
About  Nothing,"  "Richlieu,"  "The  Apostate," 
and  '  *  The  Lady  of  Lyons. ' '  I  was  to  play  Laertes 
in  "Hamlet,"  lago  in  "Othello,"  Bolingbroke  in 
"Richard  the  Second,"  Gratiano  in  "The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,"  Edgar  in  "King  Lear,"  Don 
Pedro  in  "Much  Ado  About  Nothing";  De  Mau- 
prat  in  "Richelieu";  Hemeya,  a  Moor,  in  "The 
Apostate,"  and  alternate  Othello  and  lago. 

I  had  played  many  of  the  parts  with  other  tra- 
gedians, and  knew  the  lines  and  business,  but 
Othello,  Bolingbroke  and  the  part  in  "The  Apos- 
tate" were  new  to  me. 

My  first  meeting  with  Edwin  Booth  was  on  the 
morning  of  Monday,  January  3, 1876,  on  the  stage 
at  Baltimore.  John  T.  Ford  practically  controlled 
the  theatrical  business  in  the  entire  country  south 
of  Baltimore,  and  it  was  Mr.  Booth's  first  tour  in 
that  section  of  the  country  since  the  war  and  the 
assassination  of  President  Lincoln  by  his  brother, 
John  Wilkes  Booth. 

Our  opening  play  was  "Hamlet."  The  re- 
hearsal was  called  for  10  o'clock.  Mr.  Ford's 
stock  company  completed  the  cast.    All  were  per- 


116  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

feet  in  the  words,  familiar  with  the  business  of  the 
play,  and  only  one  rehearsal  was  necessary. 

Henry  Flohr,  Mr.  Booth's  personal  attendant, 
rehearsed  the  company,  but  Mr.  Booth  himself 
was  generally  present,  as  he  was  on  this  occasion. 

Before  the  rehearsal  began,  I  was  presented  to 
Mr.  Booth,  and  I  distinctly  recall  his  appearance. 
He  was  of  medium  height,  spare  of  figure  and  had 
an  oval  face,  rather  longer  than  ordinary,  with  a 
prominent  nose  and  a  sensitive  and  expressive 
mouth.  His  eyes  seemed  large  and  eloquent,  and 
his  face  appeared  quite  pale;  more  so,  perhaps, 
from  contrast  with  his  dark  hair  that  hung  in  clus- 
ters, quite  over  his  ears.  He  wore,  as  I  remem- 
ber, a  light  overcoat,  which  he  held  together  at  his 
waist  with  his  hands,  over  a  dark  suit;  and  a  soft 
felt  hat. 

His  greeting  was  gracious  and  kindly,  inspiring 
me  at  once  with  confidence  and  placing  me  at  ease 
amidst  my  new  surroundings. 

Our  rehearsal  proceeded  smoothly  and  without 
incident.  The  company  was  a  thoroughly  compe- 
tent one,  and  the  few  suggestions  made  by  Mr. 
Booth  were  given  with  gentle  courtesy,  and  re- 
ceived and  followed  with  well  trained  and  respect- 
ful consideration. 

I  had  played  Laertes  with  many  stars,  both  in 
this  country  and  in  England;  so  I  was  quite  famil- 
iar with  the  usual  business  of  the  part,  and  as  our 
only  contact  in  the  play  was  in  the  struggle  by  the 
grave  of  Ophelia,  in  the  churchyard,  and  the  con- 


V;/  l^- 


Frederick  Warde  in  1876  as  the  Young  Englishman  in 
** Fifth  Avenue" 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   119 

How  modestly  he  received  the  applause  of  the 
audience.  How  generously  he  insisted  on  his  com- 
rades sharing  it  with  him.  The  audience  re- 
mained in  their  places  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
play;  all  of  the  actors  in  the  last  scane  had  bowed 
their  acknowledgments,  but  Mr.  Booth  was  recalled 
again  and  again,  and  each  time  insisted  on  my  ac- 
companying him  before  the  curtain. 

It  was  an  occasion  to  remember,  an  event  to  be 
recorded,  an  inspiration  to  be  followed  and  a  mem- 
ory to  be  cherished. 

It  is  more  than  forty-three  years  ago  now,  but  it 
is  as  vividly  impressed  upon  my  memory  as 
though  the  incidents  I  have  related  occurred  but 
yesterday. 

The  following  morning  we  rehearsed  "Othello,** 
with  Mr.  Booth  as  lago,  myself  as  Othello.  I  was 
dead  letter  perfect  in  the  part,  but  the  responsibil- 
ity of  acting  such  a  great  character  made  me 
dreadfully  nervous. 

It  is  usual  for  the  star  to  tell  his  supporting 
actors  the  positions  he  desires  them  to  take,  the 
crosses  to  make,  the  tempo  and  inflections  of  their 
lines  and  the  business  he  wishes  them  to  do.  I 
was  anxious  to  receive  these  directions,  but  Mr. 
Booth  gave  none.  At  last  I  asked,  ''Have  you  not 
instructions  to  give  me,  sir?"  He  replied,  "No. 
You  seem  quite  familiar  with  the  play." 

We  progressed  as  far  as  the  great  scene  between 
the  Moor  and  lago  in  the  third  act,  which  is  prac- 
tically a  dialogue,  and  still  no  instructions.  I  was 
feeling   quite  uncomfortable.    Finally  I   asked, 


120  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

"Are  my  positions  satisfactory  to  you,  Mr. 
Booth?"  "Don't  be  nervous,  my  boy,"  he  an- 
swered.   "I'll  find  you,  wherever  you  are." 

Night  came.  lago  and  Roderigo  began  the  play 
in  a  scene  before  the  house  of  Brabantio.  lago 
retires  and  re-enters  with  Othello  in  the  following 
scene,  a  street  in  Venice.  I  was  standing  in  the 
first  entrance  waiting  for  the  change  of  scene,  and 
although  it  was  a  cold  winter  night,  I  was  bathed 
in  perspiration.  Mr.  Booth  came  off  the  stage  and 
noticing  my  condition,  placed  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder  saying,  "Courage,  my  boy,  you  are  going 
to  play  the  part  splendidly." 

Throughout  the  play  Mr.  Booth  acted  as  if  I 
were  the  star,  and  he  was  supporting  me.  He 
adapted  himself  to  my  movements  and  action  with 
the  greatest  consideration,  and  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  performance  said  I  had  fully  justified  his 
good  opinion. 

The  following  night  our  parts  were  reversed. 
Mr.  Booth  was  Othello,  and  I  played  lago.  It  was 
an  ambitious  undertaking  for  a  young  man  to  al- 
ternate such  great  parts  with  so  great  an  actor,  but 
Mr.  Booth's  considerable  kindness  was  both  an 
aid  and  an  inspiration,  and  the  success  I  was  for- 
tunate enough  to  make  was  entirely  due  to  the 
generous  encouragement  of  that  splendid  Amer- 
ican gentleman. 

Mr.  Booth's  lago  was  a  truly  great  perform- 
ance, fascinating  in  its  intellectual  villainy,  sinu- 
ous and  graceful  in  movement  and  intense  in  its 
malignity. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   121 

Mr.  Booth  was  not  suited  to  the  character  of 
Othello,  either  by  physique  or  temperament.  He 
lacked  the  virility  of  John  McCuUough  and  the 
ferocity  of  Salvini. 

He  played  the  part  with  the  grace  of  an  accom- 
plished actor  within  his  physical  limitations,  skill- 
fully substituting  pathos  for  passion.  The  same 
conditions  prevailed  in  his  King  Lear.  His  lack 
of  strength  could  not  reach  the  heights  of  Lear's 
passion  in  the  earlier  acts,  but  in  the  later  scenes 
the  suffering  of  the  poor  distracted  King  was 
pathetic  in  the  extreme.  His  delivery  of  the  lines, 
"I  am  a  man  more  sinned  against  than  sinning" 
brought  tears  to  my  eyes,  and  his  recognition  of 
his  daughter  Cordelia,  as  reason  partially  returns 
to  his  disordered  mind,  was  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tifully tender  scenes  I  have  ever  witnessed. 


CHAPTER  X. 
Tour  of  the  South  with  Edwin  Booth. 

Shakespeare's  historical  play  of  "Richard  the 
Second"  is  seldom  seen  on  the  stage.  Its  revival 
by  Mr.  Booth  was  an  interesting  novelty;  and  his 
performance  of  the  weak  and  unfortunate  King 
beautiful  and  effective.  It  was  a  picture  of  a  man 
of  imaginative  temperament  and  high  ideals  that 
are  rudely  shattered  by  the  stormy  and  contend- 
ing elements  by  which  he  is  surrounded;  his  weak- 
ness and  incapacity  finally  resulting  in  the  loss  of 
his  crown  and  his  life. 

The  character  of  Richard  is  brought  into  strik- 
ing contrast  with  that  of  Bolingbroke,  which  I 
played  and  modelled  my  make-up  and  perform- 
ance after  Mr.  George  Rignold  in  "Henry  the 
Fifth,"  giving  it  a  vigor  and  force  of  character 
that  I  found  very  effective. 

I  always  thought  Cardinal  Richelieu  to  be  one 
of  Mr.  Booth's  most  successful  performances.  In 
make-up  he  seemed  to  have  stepped  out  of  one  of 
the  pictures  of  that  eminent  ecclesiastic  in  the 
Louvre.  In  manner  he  was  the  French  exquisite, 
dainty  and  delicate  as  a  woman,  in  action  stern 
and  relentless.    The  subtlety  and  craft  of  the 

122 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   123 

Statesman  outwitting  his  enemies  was  superb, 
while  the  light  touches  of  humor  were  given  with 
an  ingenuous  charm  that  gave  variety  and  relief 
to  the  gravity  of  the  situations. 

The  Semitic  cast  of  Mr.  Booth's  features  gave  a 
very  natural  and  appropriate  character  to  his  ap- 
pearance as  Shylock  in  **The  Merchant  of  Ven- 
ice." His  rendition  of  the  part  differed  materi- 
ally from  that  of  Sir  Henry  Irving  and,  to  my 
mind,  was  a  more  consistent  performance. 

Mr.  Booth  did  not  seek  for  any  new  meanings 
of  the  words  of  the  text,  and  in  few  instances  used 
any  new  business.  He  accepted  the  traditions  that 
three  centuries  of  great  actors  liad  established, 
differing  only  in  minor  details  influenced  by  his 
own  temperament  and  personality. 

**The  Apostate"  is  a  very  old  tragedy  of  the 
vintage  that  our  great  grandfathers  enjoyed.  It 
is  written  in  the  exaggerated  blank  verse  of  the  be- 
ginning of  the  last  century,  and  was  a  very  popu- 
lar play  at  the  time.  Today  it  would  excite  ridi- 
cule. Its  revival  by  Mr.  Booth  commanded  re- 
spect from  his  wonderfully  intense  performance 
of  the  villain  of  the  play,  Pescara,  a  part  similar 
to  lago,  but  much  more  malignant  and  treacher- 
ous. I  had  never  seen  the  play  before,  nor  have 
I  heard  of  its  performance  since. 

Mr.  Booth  also  played  Benedict  in  ''Much  Ado 
About  Nothing,"  Petruchio  in  "Katherine  and 
Petruchio"  and  Claude  Melnotte  in  **The  Lady  of 
Lyons,"  during  his  engagement. 

It  was  a  remarkable  repertoire  of  plays,  and  a 


124  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

wide  range  of  characters  to  give  in  two  weeks,  but 
Idr.  Booth's  versatility  was  remarkable.  It 
seemed:  to  me  that  with  Edwin  Booth  acting  was 
not  only  an  accomplishment  but  an  instinct.  With 
the  greatest  ease  he  would  step,  as  it  were,  from 
the  relentless  malignity  of  Shylock  to  the  rollick- 
ing Petruchio  in  the  same  evening;  from  the  lover 
Claude  Melnotte  in  the  afternoon  to  the  "heart- 
strook' '  King  Lear  at  night. 

After  two  great  weeks  in  Baltimore  we  started 
on  our  southern  tour.  Our  first  stop  was  at  Rich- 
mond, Va.,  where  we  played  an  entire  week  in  the 
historic  old  Richmond  Theatre.  It  was  on  the 
stage  of  this  theatre  that  Edwin  Booth's  father, 
Junius  Brutus  Booth,  when  playing  "Richard  the 
Third,"  had  refused  to  be  conquered  by  the  Earl 
of  Richmond  and  ferociously  continuing  the  com- 
bat had  driven  the  actor  pla3dng  the  part  off  the 
stage,  through  the  stage  door  into  and  across  the 
street  to  a  livery  stable.  There  he  was  only  sub- 
dued by  the  combined  efforts  of  several  men,  who, 
after  a  terrific  struggle,  finally  disarmed  him,  and 
restored  him  to  reason. 

From  Richmond,  we  continued  south,  visiting 
Charlotte,  N.  C;  Columbia,  S.  C;  Charleston,  Sa- 
vannah, Augusta,  Atlanta,  Macon,  Montgomery, 
Mobile,  Columbus,  Chattanooga  and  Nashville, 
closing  our  tour  at  Bowling  Green,  Ky. 

After  Richmond,  we  traveled  by  a  special  train, 
not  the  train  de  luxe  of  the  present  day,  simply  a 
passenger  coach  and  a  baggage  car  attached  to  a 
wood-burning  locomotive.    The   roadbeds   were 


Marie  Wainwright 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   125 

soft,  the  rails  of  iron,  so  our  progress  was  neces- 
sarily slow,  and  at  intervals  we  stopped  at  wood 
piles  and  all  the  gentlemen  of  the  company  would 
alight  and  assist  the  trainmen  to  throw  the  wood 
on  the  tender. 

Mr.  Booth  smoked  a  pipe,  a  corn  cob,  and  car- 
ried his  tobacco,  etc.,  in  a  small  satchel  suspended 
from  his  shoulder  like  the  case  of  a  field  glass.  I 
also  smoked  a  pipe,  an  English  briar.  Mr.  Booth 
and  I  would  go  into  the  baggage  car,  sit  on  a  trunk 
before  the  open  side  door,  and  smoke  and  chat. 
It  was  my  first  trip  in  the  South,  and  Mr.  Booth 
would  point  out  to  me  the  growing  tobacco,  the 
cotton  fields,  the  cane  brakes,  and  explain  to  me 
the  conditions  of  southern  life. 

At  other  times,  as  we  grew  more  intimate,  he 
would  tell  me  of  his  own  early  life  and  experiences, 
of  his  first  visit  to  England.  He  gave  me  much 
information  not  only  of  interest  but  of  value  and 
service. 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Booth  and  Mrs.  Warde 
would  sit  together  in  the  passenger  coach  and  dis- 
cuss children.  Mrs.  Booth  (Mary  McVicker)  was 
Mr.  Booth's  second  wife.  His  first  wife  (Mary 
Devlin)  had  died,  leaving  a  daughter,  Edwina. 
Edwina  suffered  from  an  ophthalmic  affection  that 
prevented  her  from  reading  or  studying,  and  her 
stepmother  was  educating  her  orally,  and  as  Mrs. 
Warde  was  the  mother  of  three  children,  they 
found  a  mutually  agreeable  subject  of  conversa- 
tion. 

Mr.  Booth  was  a  great  favorite  throughout  the 


126  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

southern  country,  and  many  people  would  congre- 
gate at  the  stations  at  which  our  train  stopped  to 
see  that  distinguished  gentleman,  but  Mr.  Booth, 
who  was  extremely  modest,  would  remain  in  the 
car.  The  company,  however,  would  get  out  for 
a  little  exercise. 

We  had  with  us  a  little  old  man,  an  actor  in  the 
company,  whom  we  called  "Billy"  Bokee.  He 
was  a  great  admirer  of  the  late  Edwin  Forrest, 
and  endeavored  to  imitate  the  appearance  and 
manner  of  that  great  and  robust  tragedian.  He 
had  a  mustache  and  a  tuft  under  his  lower  lip,  and 
wore  a  black  Talma  cloak  over  his  shoulders.  He 
took  his  exercise  with  a  tragic  air  and  a  dignified 
walk  that  no  amount  of  ridicule  could  influence. 
The  company  took  great  delight  on  these  occasions 
to  address  him  as  Mr.  Booth,  and  attract  the  at- 
tention of  the  spectators  to  him.  The  little  man 
enjoyed  this  distinction,  and  he  saved  Mr.  Booth 
from  the  embarrassment  he  would  have  felt  un- 
der the  circumstances. 

We  carried  no  scenery  with  us,  but  depended  on 
the  equipment  of  the  theatres  where  we  played. 
In  consequence  we  were  guilty  of  many  anachron- 
isms. Hamlet  interviewed  the  spirit  of  his  dead 
father  in  a  dense  wood,  and  Shylock  bargained 
the  terms  of  his  bond  with  a  background  of  a  mod- 
em American  street  with  local  advertisements 
painted  on  it. 

These  trifles,  however,  were  lost  sight  of  in  the 
strength  and  excellence  of  the  acting. 

I  remember  one  instance  in  particular.    In  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   127 

play  of  Othello,  the  first  scene  should  represent  a 
street  in  Venice,  with  the  mansion  of  Brabantio  on 
one  side,  from  which  the  gentleman  is  aroused  by 
lago,  and  who  appears  at  a  window  to  demand  the 
reason  of  his  disturbance. 

In  the  theatre  to  which  I  refer  the  stock  of 
scenery  was  very  limited.  The  nearest  approach  to 
a  mansion  was  a  small  square  set-piece  about  eight 
feet  high  and  twelve  feet  long,  painted  to  repre- 
sent a  rustic  cottage  with  a  door  and  window,  the 
chimney  appearing  above  a  roof  thatched  with 
straw. 

The  stage  manager  selected  this  for  the  purpose, 
and  its  impropriety  would  not  have  been  noticed 
had  not  Brabantio  from  behind  the  scenes,  mis- 
taking the  line  of  the  roof  for  the  ledge  of  the  win- 
dow, popped  his  head  out  of  the  chimney  and  in 
response  to  lago's  alarm  called  out,  "What  is  the 
meaning  of  this  terrible  summons?" 

Even  this  might  have  caused  little  comment,  but 
the  gentleman  who  played  Brabantio,  Mr.  M.  Lan- 
agan,  of  Ford's  Grand  Opera  House  company,  was 
over  six  feet  in  height  and  thin  in  proportion.  He 
had  to  stoop  to  enter  from  the  door,  and  as  he  rose 
to  his  full  height  the  humor  of  the  situation  made 
itself  apparent,  and  the  audience  enjoyed  a  hearty 
laugh  at  Brabantio 's  expense. 
*  In  Charleston,  S.  C,  we  had  another  humorous 
experience  with  another  Brabantio.  The  gentleman 
was  a  substitute  for  Mr.  Lanagan,  who  was  ill. 
Some  friends  in  that  hospitable  city  had  enter- 
tained him  so  generously  that  at  the  evening  per- 


128   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

formance  his  speech  was  somewhat  thick  and  un- 
certain—very suggestive  of  conviviality.  But  he 
managed  to  get  through  his  part  until  he  struck 
the  word  * 'preposterously,"  in  the  Senate  scene, 
and  that  proved  too  much  for  him.  He  hic- 
coughed at  the  consonants  and  struggled  with  the 
syllables  for  some  time  but  finally  gave  it  up,  sat 
down  and  fell  asleep. 

I  have  played  in  Othello  many,  many  times  since, 
but  never  without  recalling  the  incident  of  the  un- 
fortunate actor  who  was  wrecked  at  Charleston, 
S.  C,  on  the  rock  "Preposterously." 

At  Columbia,  S.  C,  the  theatre  was  located  in 
the  Municipal  Building,  over  the  City  Hall.  There 
was  no  grave  trap  in  the  platform  that  served  for 
the  stage,  nor  were  we  permitted  to  cut  the  floor 
to  make  one.  We  played  "Hamlet"  and  in  the 
churchyard  scene,  where  Ophelia  was  to  be  l)uried, 
the  stage  manager  placed  a  set  rock  on  the  side 
next  to  one  of  the  wings,  behind  which  the  grave 
digger  went  down  on  his  knees  to  indicate  an  ex- 
cavation, and  he  shoveled  the  earth  from  that  po- 
sition. When  it  came  to  the  burial  of  Ophelia,  we 
pushed  the  body  behind  the  rock  instead  of  lower- 
ing it  into  a  glave,  slightly  paraphrasing  the  lines 
to  make  them  consistent  with  that  method  of  dis- 
posing of  the  poor  lady's  body. 

It  was  a  great  tribute  to  Mr.  Booth  and  a  credit 
to  the  audience  that  these  incongruous  conditions 
failed  to  cause  any  diversion  from  the  serious  in- 
terest of  the  play. 

In  the  play  of  "Hamlet,"  it  is  necessary  to  use 


H.  J.  Montague 


FIFTY  YEAES  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   129 

two  human  skulls  in  the  graveyard  scene.  One  is 
merely  thrown  out  of  the  grave  with  the  soil  and  a 
substitute  serves  the  purpose,  but  Hamlet  has  to 
take  the  other  in  his  hand  and  apostrophise  it  as 
Yorick's  skull,  and  it  should  be  real.  The  com- 
pany did  not  carry  one  as  there  was  a  superstition 
against  having  a  human  relic  in  the  baggage,  but 
we  were  usually  able  to  borrow  one  from  a  local 
physician. 

In  one  town  we  were  unable  to  do  this,  so  the 
property  man  procured  a  very  large  turnip,  carved 
it  into  the  shape  of  a  human  skull,  covered  it  with 
earth  and  some  paint  until  it  really  looked  remark- 
ably like  the  real  thing,  and  placed  it  in  the  grave. 
The  gravedigger  threw  it  out  with  the  soil,  and  at 
the  proper  cue  handed  it  to  Mr.  Booth  as  Hamlet. 
The  natural  moisture  of  the  vegetable,  and  the 
paint  made  it  very  slippery,  Mr.  Booth  failed  to 
grasp  and  it  fell  with  a  heavy  thud  on  the  stage, 
quite  inconsistent  with  the  weight  of  a  hollow 
skull. 

It  then  rolled  rapidly  down  to  the  footlights  and 
knocked  off  the  tip  of  one  of  the  gas  jets.  The 
gas  flamed  up,  some  one  in  the  audience  yelled 
"fire,"  and  a  panic  was  only  averted  by  the 
prompt  action  of  the  leader  of  the  orchestra,  who 
extinguished  the  flame  with  his  handkerchief. 

Horatio  recovered  the  turnip  and  returned  it  to 
Mr.  Booth,  but  his  tender  apostrophe  to  the  mem- 
ory of  his  early  playmate,  Yorick,  lost  much  of 
its  pathos  by  the  unfortunate  revelation  of  the 
very  substantial  formation  of  the  poor  dead  jest- 


130  riFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

er's  skull  that  was  supposed  to  have  "lain  in  the 
earth  for  three  and  twenty  years." 

We  played  an  entire  week  at  the  old  Masonic 
Theatre  in  Nashville,  Tenn.  Mr.  Booth  dressed  in 
a  small  triangular  room  at  the  side  of  the  prosce- 
nium. A  cigar  box  with  his  tobacco  and  some 
pipe-lights  ready  at  hand  were  always  on  his  dress- 
ing table. 

We  were  playing  "Richelieu."  I  had  occasion 
to  go  to  his  room  between  the  acts,  and  the  picture 
I  saw  is  fresh  in  my  memory.  Mr.  Booth  was  sit- 
ting before  the  mirror,  made  up  and  dressed  in  the 
full  crimson  robes  of  the  great  cardinal,  the  biretta 
on  his  head,  the  jeweled  cross  on  his  breast,  smok- 
ing a  corncob  pipe.  The  incongruity  of  the  situ- 
ation struck  me  forcibly  and  we  both  laughed 
heartily  as  we  recognized  the  humor  of  this  infor- 
mal meeting  of  the  chevalier  and  the  cardinal  be- 
hind the  scenes. 

In  spite  of  his  usual  melancholy  manner,  Mr. 
Booth  had  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  and  not  infre- 
quently would  make  sotto-voce  remarks  to  me  even 
in  the  most  tragic  scenes. 

We  were  in  Mobile,  Ala.,  and  had  been  some- 
what troubled  by  mosquitoes.  The  play  was 
"King  Lear."  Mr.  Booth  as  the  demented  old 
King  was  sitting  on  a  log.  I,  as  the  assumed  mad- 
man Edgar,  was  lying  at  his  feet.  Lear,  taking 
Edgar  to  be  a  learned  philosopher,  asks  him: 
"What  is  your  occupation?"  to  which  Edgar,  hu- 
moring the  old  king,  answers:  "How  to  prevent 
the  fiend  and  to  kill  vermin."    To  my  intense  as- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   131 

tonishment,  Mr.  Booth,  without  a  change  in  the 
vacant  eye,  or  a  muscle  of  the  pain-drawn  reverend 
face,  asked:    "Skeeters  and  sich?'* 

It  was  another  demonstration  of  my  theory  of 
acting,  that,  however  tragic  the  part  or  intense  the 
emotion,  the  actor  must  always  be  master  of  him- 
self. 

Mr.  Booth's  health  was  not  good,  so  we  did  not 
play  every  night,  and  I  had  considerable  leisure. 
I  took  advantage  of  this  to  see  the  country,  and 
frequently  rode  out  several  miles  on  horseback, 
visiting  the  old  southern  homes,  cotton  plantations 
and  points  of  historic  interest,  invariably  meeting 
with  the  greatest  courtesy  and  on  more  than  one 
occasion  enjoying  the  splendid  hospitality  for 
which  that  section  of  the  country  is  proverbial. 

Savannah  is  noted  for  its  old  historic  theatre, 
one  of  the  oldest  in  the  country,  and  its  beautiful 
system  of  squares  and  monuments.  I  narrowly 
escaped  getting  into  trouble  there.  I  was  riding 
on  horseback  about  the  city,  and  took  the  car 
track  through  the  center  of  a  square  instead  of  go- 
ing around  by  the  roadway,  when  I  was  stopped 
by  a  policeman  and  escorted  to  the  police  station. 
I  pleaded  ignorance  of  the  traffic  regulations,  made 
myself  known  and  was  released  from  custody,  but 
courteously  told  not  to  do  it  again. 

In  several  of  the  cities  I  found  evidence  of  the 
late  Civil  War  conflict,  notably  in  the  old  city  of 
Charleston,  S.  C,  where  on  the  beautiful  esplanade 
I  saw  many  of  the  old  family  mansions  battered 
and  disfigured  by  the  bombardments,  a  sad  re- 


132   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

minder  of  the  horrors  of  war.  They  have  since 
been  restored,  and  few  more  interesting  and  at- 
tractive spots  can  be  found  today  than  the  es- 
planade at  Charleston. 

So  our  southern  tour  continued  with  ovations  to 
Mr.  Booth  and  cordial  greetings  fo  the  company 
everywhere  until  we  reached  Bowling  Green,  Ky., 
where  we  were  met  by  Mr.  Barney  Macauley,  man- 
ager of  the  Louisville  Tljeatre,  who  took  Mr. 
Booth  from  us  for  a  visit  to  the  Mammoth  Cave 
of  Kentucky  and  then  to  Louisville,  where  he  was 
supported  by  the  resident  dramatic  company. 

I  accompanied  Mr.  Ford  and  the  company  to 
Baltimore,  stopping  at  Cumberland,  Md.,  to  open 
a  new  opera  house.  We  played  *  *  Jane  E3rre"  and 
two  modern  comedies  for  our  three  night  engage- 
ment. I  was  requested  to  make  the  inaugural  ad- 
dress. It  was  the  first  public  speech  I  ever  made, 
and  I  distinctly  remember  my  suffering  in  antici- 
pation of  that  dread  ordeal,  but  we  have  in  the 
dramatic  profession  a  comforting  philosophy  that 
"Twelve  o'clock  must  come,"  and  the  opening 
ceremonies  of  the  new  theatre  passed  off  success- 
fully. 

I  left  the  company  at  Baltimore  and  after  a  brief 
vacation  went  to  Chicago  to  play  a  week  at  Mc- 
Vicker's  Theatre,  and  then  resume  my  support  of 
Mr.  Booth  on  a  tour  of  the  northern  cities  under 
Mr.  McVicker's  management. 

Chicago  was  a  very  different  city  in  1876  than  it 
is  today,  but  vibrant  with  life,  animation  and  en- 
terprise.   Vacant  lots  filled  with  scattered  debris 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    133 

of  the  recent  fire  disfigured  the  blocks  on  the 
streets  where  now  magnificent  business  and  office 
buildings  crowd  each  other  in  stately  array. 
Wooden  sidewalks  of  varying  levels  necessitated 
care  by  the  pedestrian,  even  in  daylight,  and 
wooden  sheds  served  as  terminals  for  the  rail- 
roads. 

It  was  my  first  visit  to  the  Middle  West,  and  I 
was  greatly  impressed  with  the  vital  energy  of  its 
people. 

From  the  windows  of  my  room  at  the  old  Sher- 
man House  I  watched  the  powerful  machinery 
driving  long  piles  soaked  in  creosote  in  the  ground 
to  make  a  secure  foundation  for  the  great  Munici- 
pal Building  to  be  erected  there.  A  building  that 
was  subsequently  found  inadequate,  and  a  still 
greater  one  has  taken  its  place. 

I  opened  at  McVicker's  Theatre  in  Buckstone*s 
comedy,  "Leap  Year"  for  three  nights,  followed 
by  the  old  drama,  **A11  That  Glitters  Is  Not  Gold," 
for  the  remainder  of  the  week.  The  cast  included 
Mr.  Thomas  Whiffin,  the  comedian,  and  Miss  Ellen 
Cummins,  and  the  resident  stock  company. 

The  following  Monday  Mr.  Booth  began  a  two 
weeks'  engagement  in  the  same  repertoire  we  had 
played  on  our  southern  tour.  Mr.  J.  H.  Mc- 
Vicker,  who  was  Mr.  Booth's  father-in-law,  played 
the  comedy  parts  with  traditional  business  and  a 
sententious  humor  that  was  delightful.  I  think 
his  grave-digger  in  "Hamlet,"  and  Dogberry  in 
"Much  Ado  About  Nothing"  the  best  I  ever  saw. 
Mr.  Leslie  Gossin,  Miss  Ellen  Cummins  and  the 


134   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

stock  company  of  McVicker's  Theatre  completed 
the  casts. 

After  Chicago,  we  played  Detroit,  then  crossed 
the  river  to  Canada,  playing  London,  Hamilton, 
Toronto  and  St.  Catherines.  I  was  pleased  to  find 
that  Mr.  Booth  was  received  in  Canada  with  the 
same  enthusiasm  as  in  the  United  States.  This 
was  the  more  gratifying  from  the  fact  that  he  had 
expressed  some  anxiety  as  to  his  reception  there. 
He  had  told  me  his  visit  to  England  in  his  younger 
days  had  not  been  as  successful  as  he  could  have 
wished,  and  he  was  greatly  pleased  with  his  re- 
ception in  Canada. 

It  has  been  said  that  art  has  no  nationality,  it 
is  universal.  In  the  case  of  Edwin  Booth  this  was 
certainly  true.  Such  ripened  and  perfected  art 
as  his  belongs  not  to  a  nation  but  to  the  world. 

We  left  Canada  by  the  Suspension  Bridge  and 
finished  our  tour  with  a  week's  engagement  at 
Meech's  Academy  of  Music  in  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 

During  our  week  in  Buffalo  I  was  presented  to 
and  met  on  several  occasions  Grover  Cleveland, 
then  the  Sheriff  of  Erie  county.  He  was  a  great 
admirer  of  Mr.  Booth  and  much  interested  in  the 
drama.  Our  meetings  were  usually  after  the  per- 
formance when,  under  the  social  influence  of  a 
cigar  and  modest  liquid  refreshment,  we  would 
discuss  the  actors  and  the  stage  of  the  two  coun- 
tries. At  those  little  democratic  meetings  I  little 
thought,  and  I  doubt  if  he  did  either,  that  I  should 
one  day  greet  him  in  Albany  as  the  Governor  of 
New  York  State  and  later  in  Washington  as  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    135 

President  of  the  United  States.  I  did  so,  how- 
ever, and  found  in  the  Governor  of  the  State  and 
the  President  of  the  nation  the  same  genial  demo- 
cratic friend  I  had  met  as  the  Sheriff  of  Erie 
County. 

I  have  dwelt  at  some  length  on  my  association 
with  Edwin  Booth.  It  approximated  twenty-two 
weeks  in  all,  but  they  were  so  filled  with  interest 
and  pleasure  that  I  have  ever  regarded  them  col- 
lectively as  one  of  the  most  enjoyable  periods  of 
my  professional  life.  The  modesty  of  a  truly  great 
man  was  the  distinguishing  feature  of  Edwin 
Booth's  personality,  allied  with  a  sweet  and  gentle 
nature  that  won  the  esteem  and  affection  of  all 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 

I  did  not  play  with  Mr.  Booth  after  the  tour  I 
have  described,  but  it  is  a  privilege  to  record  the 
fact  that  I  enjoyed  his  personal  friendship  and  the 
advantage  of  his  advice  and  encouragement  until 
he  passed  away. 

The  Players'  Club  of  New  York  stands  as  an  en- 
during monument  to  his  memory,  and  his  generos- 
ity to  the  members  of  the  profession  he  so  con- 
spicuously adorned. 

Recently  a  bronze  statue  representing  Mr.  Booth 
in  the  character  of  Hamlet  standing  on  a  granite 
pedestal  has  been  erected  in  Gramercy  Park  and 
presented  to  the  city  of  New  York  by  the  members 
of  the  Players'  Club  as  a  loving  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  its  founder. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
A  Return  to  Booth's  Theatre,  New  York. 

In  the  meantime  the  revival  of  ''Julius  Caesar" 
had  been  a  great  success  in  New  York,  and  Messrs. 
Jarrett  and  Palmer  decided  to  send  it  on  a  tour  of 
the  country  with  E.  L.  Davenport  and  Lawrence 
Barrett  as  the  stars.  On  my  return  from  the  tour 
with  Mr.  Booth,  I  was  engaged  for  the  part  of 
Marc  Antony  and  to  be  substarred.  Mr.  Bangs 
was  retained  in  New  York  to  play  Sardanapalus  in 
a  big  production  of  B3n:on's  poetic  play  of  that 
name  at  Booth's  Theatre. 

This  was  another  congenial  engagement  and  I 
considered  myself  very  fortunate,  for  next  to  Mr. 
Booth,  Lawrence  Barrett  and  E.  L.  Davenport 
were  the  most  distinguished  tragedians  in  this 
country. 

We  rehearsed  "Julius  Caesar"  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Willie  Seymour,  then  quite  a  young  man, 
but  who  has  since  become  one  of  the  most  accom- 
plished dramatic  directors  of  the  day. 
I  Our  cast  was  an  excellent  one,  all  of  the  gentle- 
men being  men  of  ability,  fine  physique  and  ripe 
experience.  I  append  the  cast  of  the  principals  as 
a  matter  of  interest  and  record: 

Marcus  Brutus,  Mr.  E.  L.  Davenport;  Caius  Cas- 

13G 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    137 

sius,  Mr.  Lawrence  Barrett;  Marcus  Antonius,  Mr. 
F.  B.  Warde;  Julius  Caesar,  Mr.  E.  K.  Collier; 
Publius  Casca,  Mr.  Harry  Langdon;  Trebonius, 
Mr.  J.  P.  Clarke;  Portia,  Miss  E.  V.  Proudfoot; 
Louis  Barrett,  a  brother  of  Lawrence,  played  the 
First  Citizen. 

We  began  our  tour  at  Bay  City,  Mich.,  on  Sep- 
tember 25, 1876.  Both  Mr.  Barrett  and  Mr.  Daven- 
port were  exceedingly  gracious,  and  generously  in- 
vited me  to  share  the  carriage  provided  for  them 
to  and  from  the  railroad  stations.  They  also  sug- 
gested that  we  should  endeavor  to  obtain  three 
bedrooms  and  a  mutual  sitting  room  at  the  hotels, 
an  arrangement  that  proved  very  agreeable  when- 
ever we  were  able  to  obtain  the  accommodations. 

We  carried  quite  an  equipment  of  costumes, 
arms  and  armors,  but  no  scenery  or  properties, 
with  the  exception  of  a  number  of  long  sections  of 
stove  piping,  which,  painted  to  represent  logs  of 
wood,  were  used  to  represent  the  funeral  "pjre  in  a 
tableau  which  had  been  introduced  to  close  the 
play— **  The  burning  of  the  body  of  Brutus  on  the 
plains  of  Phillipi.'* 

Many  of  the  towns  we  visited  were  small,  and 
the  so-called  opera  houses  were  merely  halls  with 
small  stages,  and  a  limited  stock  of  scenery.  Not 
infrequently  I  delivered  Marc  Antony's  address 
over  the  body  of  Caesar  on  a  dry  goods  box  or  a 
packing  case  covered  with  a  white  cloth,  my  head 
reaching  to  the  sky  borders,  while  a  modern  street 
with  local  stores  and  advertisements,  served  for  a 
background. 


138  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

It  was  impossible  to  obtain  supernumeraiies  in 
these  towns,  so  our  armies  were  made  up  entirely 
of  officers  and  never  strong  in  numbers,  while  our 
Roman  populace  and  Senators  were  represented 
by  members  of  the  company  who  could  double 
them  with  their  parts. 

I  have  had  as  few  as  five  violent  citizens  urging 
Marc  Antony  to  "read  Caesar's  will,"  and  have 
heard  Brutus  command  his  soldiers,  "Stoop,  Ro- 
man, stoop,  and  bear  the  body  hence,"  and  have 
seen  two  of  his  officers  take  the  dead  Cassius  by  the 
head  and  heels  and  carry  him  off. 

In  spite  of  these  conditions  the  play  was  re- 
ceived with  the  most  respectful  attention,  and  the 
splendid  acting  of  both  Mr.  Barrett  and  Mr. 
Davenport  was  appreciated  with  critical  discern- 
ment and  applauded  with  enthusiasm. 

Marc  Antony  is  a  very  popular  character  and  I 
was  fortunately  very  successful  in  my  part  in  the 
play. 

We  traveled  west  as  far  as  the  Mississippi 
River.  Many  of  the  towns  we  visited  have  now 
become  large  and  prosperous  cities  with  splendid 
opera  houses  equipped  with  every  modem,  scien- 
tific and  mechanical  device  for  the  adequate  pres- 
entation of  great  dramatic  productions.  Even  in 
the  days  of  which  I  am  writing  there  was  a  fine 
theatre— Tootle's  Opera  House  in  St.  Joseph,  Mo., 
and  another,  The  Coates  Opera  House  in  Kansas 
City,  both  built  by  enterprising  merchants  whose 
foresight  anticipated  the  growth  of  these  now 
large  and  important  cities. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    139 

Mr.  E.  L.  Davenport  was  a  fine  old  actor.  He 
read  the  lines  of  Brutus  with  great  distinction  and 
acted  the  part  with  great  effectiveness  and  deep 
feeling. 

Lawrence  Barrett  was  an  ideal  Cassius.  He  as- 
sumed a  hard,  metallic  voice  and  used  a  spasmodic 
action  that  admirably  suited  the  part,  making  a 
strong  contrast  to  the  quiet  contemplative  reserve 
of  the  gentle  Brutus. 

Mr.  Barrett  had  risen  to  his  prominence  in  the 
dramatic  profession  from  very  humble  circum- 
stances, unaided,  and  acquired  his  knowledge  and 
culture  in  the  face  of  many  obstacles. 

The  tables  in  the  dining  room  of  the  old  Rus- 
sell House  in  Detroit  were  quite  long.  Mr.  Bar- 
rett, Mr.  Davenport  and  myself  were  dining  to- 
gether, Mr.  Barrett  sitting  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  Mr.  Davenport  and  myself  on  either  side. 
We  were  taking  some  wine  with  our  dinner,  I 
think  it  was  Mr.  Barrett's  birthday.  At  the  other 
end  of  the  table,  opposite  to  Mr.  Barrett,  sat  an 
elderly  man,  who,  I  noticed,  looked  at  us  from 
time  to  time,  with,  as  I  thought,  a  sneering  smile 
upon  his  face.  He  finally  finished  his  meal  and 
left  the  table. 

After  he  had  risen,  Mr.  Barrett  called  our  atten- 
tion to  him  and  said:  "I  was  an  errand  boy  in 
that  man's  dry  goods  store  some  years  ago.  He 
caught  me  imitating  him  one  day  and  discharged 
me,  saying  my  proper  place  was  on  the  stage." 

Mr.  Barrett  also  told  us  he  had  been  a  bell  boy 
in  one  of  the  Detroit  hotels,  and  had  taken  the  ends 


140   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

of  candles  that  the  guests  left  in  their  candlesticks 
and  by  their  light  read  and  studied  books  and 
plays  in  his  garret  room  and  thus  acquired  an  am- 
bition to  become  an  actor. 

How  he  succeeded,  those  who  remember  him 
well  know,  and  the  history  and  records  of  the 
American  stage  will  bear  testimony  to  his  honor- 
able career. 

Mr.  Barrett  was  engaged  in  writing  the  life  of 
Charlotte  Cushman  during  his  leisure,  and  read  us 
the  result  of  his  work  as  he  progressed.  He  was 
not  given  to  humor  as  a  rule,  but  was  not  without 
a  ready  wit. 

There  was  usually  a  peephole  in  the  curtains  of 
the  theatres  in  which  we  played,  through  which 
Mr.  Barrett,  as  well  as  others,  would  survey  the 
audience  before  the  play  began.  When  the  audi- 
ence was  large,  Mr.  Barrett  would  say  with  great 
satisfaction,  "There  is  a  great  deal  of  culture  in 
this  town."  This  occurred  quite  frequently  as 
our  business  as  a  rule  was  very  large;  but  on  one 
occasion,  after  a  look  through  the  curtain,  he 
turned  away  without  remark.  This  omission 
caused  a  wag  in  the  company  to  take  a  peep  and  he 
found  a  very  small  audience.  Turning  to  Mr. 
Barrett,  he  said  with  some  sarcasm,  "Quite  a  great 
deal  of  culture  here,  sir,"  to  which  Mr.  Barrett  re- 
plied, "Yes,  agri-culture." 

Barrett  was  very  sensitive  both  of  his  personal 
dignity  and  of  his  professional  position.  He  re- 
sented familiarity,  and  the  terms  "show,"  "show- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    141 

people"  and  "show  folk"  were  especially  offen- 
sive to  him. 

We  were  leaving  the  hotel  at  Peoria,  111.,  one 
morning,  the  old  Peoria  House  near  the  river. 
Mr.  Barrett  went  to  the  desk  and  asked  for  his 
bill.  "What  name?"  inquired  the  clerk.  "Law- 
rence Barrett,"  was  the  reply  with  some  hauteur. 
"Oh,  you're  with  the  show:  One  dollar,  please: 
same  rate  to  show  folk  all  round." 

The  clerk  meant  no  disrespect,  but  poor  Bar- 
rett's dignity  received  quite  a  shock. 

Arriving  one  day  at  Lansing,  Michigan,  we 
reached  the  hotel  a  few  minutes  only  before  the 
time  for  closing  the  dining  room  after  the  dinner 
hour.  The  tables  already  had  been  cleared  and 
prepared  for  the  evening  meal.  Mr.  Barrett,  Mr. 
Davenport,  myself  and  practically  the  entire  Julius 
Caesar  company  came  in  and  sat  down,  greatly  to 
the  disgust  of  the  waiters,  who  had  imagined  their 
mid-day  work  completed. 

Barrett  ordered  roast  beef  and  potatoes  for  din- 
ner. The  waiter,  an  Irishman,  brought  him 
corned  beef  and  placed  it  before  him.  Barrett, 
annoyed,  handed  the  plate  back  to  the  waiter,  pro- 
testing, "I  want  roast  beef."  The  waiter 
promptly  replaced  the  plate  before  him  and  in  a 
rich  Irish  brogue  asserted  with  decisive  empha- 
sis: "It's  roast  beef  ye  want,  but  it's  corned  beef 
ye '11  get."  It  was  all  he  got  and  he  had  to  make 
his  dinner  of  it. 

During  our  tour  an  unfortunate  difference  arose 
between  Mr.  Barrett  and  Mr.  Davenport.    It  orig- 


142   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

inated  in  a  trifling  circumstance,  but  both  being 
very  sensitive,  it  aroused  much  ill  feeling  between 
them  and  they  would  not  speak  to  each  other. 
Both  gentlemen  made  a  confidant  of  me.  It  was 
a  very  painful  position,  but  I  used  all  the  diplo- 
macy I  could  and  was  fortunate  enough  to  retain 
their  friendship;  but  I  regret  to  say  the  breach 
between  them  was  never  closed. 

We  visited  no  less  than  fifty-four  towns  before 
returning  to  New  York.  The  principals  then  went 
to  the  Brooklyn  Theatre  with  the  complete  scenic 
production  of  "Julius  Caesar,"  the  subordinate 
parts  being  played  by  members  of  Mr.  A.  M. 
Palmer's  company. 

The  part  of  Octavius  Caesar  was  played  by  a 
young  actor  of  comparatively  brief  experience, 
and  that  only  in  modern  plays,  Mr.  Walden  Ram- 
sey. The  Roman  sandals  provided  for  him  were 
somewhat  complicated  and  he  could  not  adjust 
them  to  his  feet.  I  was  in  my  dressing  room  when 
he  appeared  at  my  door  in  complete  Roman  armor, 
helmet  and  all;  a  pair  of  eyeglasses  on  his  nose, 
feet  bare  and  holding  a  sandal  in  each  of  his  out- 
stretched hands  and  helplessly  asked:  **How  the 
devil  do  you  put  the  confounded  things  on,  Mr. 
Warde?"  I  solved  the  problem  for  him,  but  did 
not  succeed  in  removing  his  prejudice  against  the 
footwear  of  the  ancient  Romans. 

The  week  at  the  Brooklyn  Theatre  closed  our 
Julius  Caesar  tour.  The  following  attraction 
there  was  Miss  Kate  Claxton  and  Mr.  A.  M. 
Palmer 's  company  in  '  *  The  Two  Orphans. ' '    Dur- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    143 

ing  the  week  the  theatre  burned  down.  Mr. 
Claude  Burroughs  and  Mr.  Murdock  of  the  com- 
pany were  lost  in  the  fire  and  many  of  the  audi- 
ence perished  in  their  efforts  to  escape  from  the 
burning  building,  which  was  destroyed. 

Our  entire  scenic  equipment  from  "Julius 
Caesar"  had  been  left  in  the  Brooklyn  Theatre 
and  was  lost  in  the  fire. 

Mr.  Barrett,  Mr.  Davenport  and  myself  returned 
to  Booth's  Theatre  for  a  production  of  "King 
Lear"  with  Mr.  Barrett  as  the  old  demented  king. 
The  cast  was  a  strong  one,  and  the  production  ade- 
quate, but  Mr.  Barrett  was  not  suited  either  by 
physique  or  temperament  for  King  Lear.  He 
lacked  dignity  and  grandeur  in  the  earlier  scenes, 
his  passion  was  petulance  and  his  grief  fretful 
rather  than  pathetic.    The  supporting  cast  was: 

Edgar,  Mr.  E.  L.  Davenport;  Edmund,  Mr.  F.  B. 
Warde;  Earl  of  Kent,  Mr.  W.  E.  Sheridan;  Earl 
of  Gloster,  Mr.  H.  A.  Weaver;  Albany,  Mr.  E.  K. 
Collier;  The  Fool,  Mr.  Willie  Seymour;  Cordelia, 
Miss  Stella  Boniface;  Coneril,  Miss  Gertrude  Kel- 
log,  and  Regan,  Miss  Dora  Coldthwaite. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  week,  Mr.  Davenport  re- 
tired from  the  cast  and  I  took  the  part  of  Edgar, 
and  Mr.  Collier  that  of  Edmund. 

Our  next  production  at  Booth's  Theatre  was  of 
an  entirely  different  character.  A  domestic 
drama  of  the  Cromwellian  period  in  England  by 
W.  S.  Gilbert  called  "Dan'l  Druce,  Blacksmith." 
The  story  was  similar  to  that  of  George  Eliot's 
"Silas  Mamer."    It  was  a  pretty  little  play  and 


144  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

proved  very  successful.  Mr.  Lawrence  Barrett 
played  the  part  of  Dan'l  Druce,  I  was  Geoffrey 
Winyard  and  the  cast  included  W.  E.  Sheridan, 
J.  W.  Jennings  and  Miss  Minnie  Palmer.  Miss 
Palmer  was  a  very  sweet  and  attractive  little  ac- 
tress, who  subsequently  traveled  the  country  in 
a  play  called,  "My  Sweetheart,"  under  the  man- 
agement of  Mr.  Rogers,  to  whom  she  was  after- 
wards married,  and  is  now,  I  believe,  living  in  re- 
tirement. 

At  that  time  there  were  two  popular  leading 
men  in  New  York  of  contrasting  type  and  tempera- 
ment, Mr.  Charles  R.  Thome,  Jr.,  of  the  Union 
Square  Theatre,  and  Mr.  H.  J.  Montague  of  Wal- 
lack's.  The  former  was  of  robust  physique,  great 
personal  magnetism  and  virility;  the  latter  deli- 
cate, polished  and  refined.  Both  were  deservedly 
popular  with  the  public. 

George  Fawcett  Rowe  wrote  a  play  for  these 
two  actors  with  characters  in  which  they  would 
appear  to  equal  advantage  according  to  their  per- 
sonal characteristics.  Thorne  was  to  play  a  great 
big  hearted  generous  American,  and  Montague,  a 
well-bred  chivalrous  young  English  nobleman. 
Unfortunately  neither  Thorne  nor  Montague  could 
obtain  release  from  his  engagements,  so  Messrs. 
Jarrett  and  Palmer  accepted  the  play  for  produc- 
tion at  Booth's  Theatre. 

The  play  was  called  "Fifth  Avenue."  George 
Rignold  was  engaged  to  play  the  American,  and  I 
was  cast  for  the  young  Englishman.  The  selec- 
tion of  Mr.  Rignold  for  the  American  was  not  a 


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H.  J.  Montague  and  Ms  New  York  Company  in  "Diplomacy" 
playing  in  San  Francisco 


FIFTY  YEARS  OP  MAKE-BELIEVE    145 

happy  one,  as  his  hearing,  manner  and  speech  were 
essentially  British,  and  no  acting  on  his  part  could 
conceal  the  fact.  The  contrast  was,  therefore, 
lost.  The  character  though,  was  manly  and 
heroic  and  Rignold  played  it  with  fine  effect.  I 
was  equally  successful  in  my  part,  but  the  honors 
of  the  play  were  carried  off  by  Johnny  Wild  and 
George  S.  Knight,  two  gentlemen  from  the  variety 
stage,  and  Mr.  Charles  Parsloe,  a  comedian. 

I  quote  from  the  New  York  Express  of  the  fol- 
lowing day  which  aptly  described  the  circum- 
stances: "The  heroes  of  the  hour,  though,  if  long 
continued  and  vociferous  cheering  be  any  crite- 
rion, were  John  Wild,  George  S.  Knight  and 
Charles  Parsloe,  who  impersonated  respectively  a 
negro,  a  German,  and  a  street  arab.  The  boys  in 
the  gallery  seemed  to  go  wild  in  the  frenzy  of 
seeing  their  old  friends,  and  applause  almost 
shook  the  building." 

Johnny  Wild  sang  negro  songs,  George  Knight 
gave  a  wonderful  acrobatic  imitation  of  a  German 
emigrant  seized  with  an  epileptic  fit,  and  Parsloe 
contributed  his  share  of  the  fun  by  a  characteristic 
sketch  of  a  Bowery  boy. 

All  three  of  these  comedians  have  long  since 
passed  away.  But  Wild  will  be  remembered  by 
many  old  theater-goers  for  his  negro  characters, 
George  Knight  for  his  German  dialect  plays,  and 
Charles  Parsloe  for  his  Chinaman  in  Bartley 
Campbell's  play,  "My  Partner,"  in  association 
with  the  late  Louis  Aldrich. 

But  to  return  to  *  *  Fifth  Avenue. ' '    George  Rig- 


146  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

nold  and  I  would  stand  in  the  entrance  waiting  to 
go  on,  he  with  growing  impatience,  I  with  amuse- 
ment, as  the  audience  encored  the  work  of  the 
comedians  again  and  again  until  they  were  too  ex- 
hausted to  do  more  and  we  were  permitted  to  pro- 
ceed with  the  play. 

"Fifth  Avenue"  had  an  exceedingly  good  cast 
which  included  a  fine  old  actor,  Mr.  James  H.  Tay- 
lor, Mr.  Vining  Bowers,  the  comedian,  and  Miss 
Maud  Granger,  the  leading  lady. 

After  the  run  of  "Fifth  Avenue"  at  Booth's 
Theatre,  it  was  taken  to  Philadelphia  with  the 
same  cast. 

That  Philadelphia  visit  left  me  some  very  sad, 
yet  sweet  and  tender  memories.  During  my  ab- 
sence from  my  New  York  home,  my  wife  had  re- 
ceived a  cable  from  England  announcing  the  death 
of  my  mother.  She  did  not  repeat  or  send  the 
message  to  me,  but  came  to  Philadelphia  bringing 
with  her  our  little  baby  daughter,  ten  months  old, 
and  only  when  I  was  holding  the  little  girl  in  my 
arms  did  she  break  the  sad  news  to  me  with  the 
gentle  sympathy  that  only  a  devoted  wife  and 
mother  could  feel. 

The  grief  for  the  dear  one  that  had  passed  away 
was  softened  by  the  realization  of  the  new  life 
that  claimed  my  care  and  love  and  the  filial  affec- 
tion of  a  son  that  was  now  a  tribute  to  the  dead 
must  be  replaced  by  the  loving  care  of  a  father 
to  the  living. 

I  had  no  understudy,  so  I  was  obliged  to  assume 
my  part  as  usual,  and  unfortunately  had  to  refer  to 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   147 

**my  mother"  in  several  scenes,  greatly  to  my  dis- 
tress; but  no  matter  how  heavy  the  actor's  heart 
may  be,  the  play  must  go  on  and  the  grief  he  feels 
must  be  hidden  from  the  audience  under  the  mask 
of  smiles  and  laughter. 

How  gentle  and  kind  all  of  the  company  were  to 
me  that  night.  They  had  learned  of  my  loss,  and 
all  expressed  in  manner  more  than  in  words  their 
tender  sympathy. 

Dear  old  comrades  of  the  stage,  you  may  have 
many  faults,  but  when  it  comes  to  human  sympa- 
thy, I  know  of  no  profession  or  calling  where  the 
hand  and  heart  are  more  ready  to  respond  to  the 
call  for  help  or  to  lighten  the  burden  of  sorrow! 


CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Last  Days  of  Booth's  Theatre. 

After  our  Philadelphia  engagement,  the  com- 
pany returned  to  New  York,  most  of  them  being 
retained  to  support  John  McCullough  in  a  reper- 
toire of  heavy  classic  plays  that  included  "Vir- 
ginius,"  "Richelieu,"  "The  Gladiator"  and 
"Metamora." 

I  played  Icilius,  De  Mauprat,  Phasarius,  and  the 
young  hero  in  Metamora,  whose  name  I  have  for- 
gotten. Maud  Granger  was  the  leading  lady  and 
Mr.  E.  K.  Collier  played  the  heavy  parts. 

Mr.  McCullough  was  much  better  suited  both  by 
physique  and  temperament  to  the  virile  parts  of 
Virginius,  Spartacus  and  Metamora  than  to  the 
part  of  the  modern  soldier  in  "Belle  Lamar,"  in 
which  I  had  first  met  him.  He  had  supported 
Edwin  Forrest  for  some  years  before  starring  him- 
self and  had  adopted  the  sterling  methods  of  that 
robust  and  distinguished  tragedian. 

There  was  little  subtlety  in  McCullough's  acting 
—it  was  not  in  his  nature,  but  in  the  impersona- 
tion of  the  elemental  conditions  and  passions  of 
the  human  heart  he  was  admirable.  His  Vir- 
ginius was  a  splendid  presentation  of  the  Roman 

148 


Maurice  Barrymore 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   149 

patriot  and  father.  The  tender  love  of  the  earlier 
scenes,  the  indignation  at  the  outrage  on  his  child, 
the  horror  of  the  dreadful  alternative  in  the 
Forum  and  the  bereaved  and  distracted  father  in 
the  later  scenes  were  finely  portrayed. 

His  Richelieu  lacked  the  delicacy  and  finesse 
of  Mr.  Booth's  performance  of  the  character,  but 
he  was  powerfully  effective  in  the  great  curse 
scene. 

It  was  admirably  summarized  in  the  review  in 
the  New  York  Herald:  *  'It  suggests  the  lion  rather 
than  the  fox." 

Spartacus  in  "The  Gladiator"  was  an  especially 
strong  performance  of  Mr.  McCullough's,  every 
personal  attribute  of  the  actor,  voice,  physique, 
manner  and  movement  contributing  to  a  realiza- 
tion of  the  Thracian  captive  and  subsequent  cham- 
pion of  the  arena. 

Mine  was  an  especially  strong  part  in  "The 
Gladiator,"  Phasarius,  brother  to  Spartacus.  In 
my  last  scene  I  had  to  deliver  a  long  and  vivid 
description  of  the  crucifixion  of  three  thousand 
gladiators.  It  was  well  written  by  Dr.  Bird,  the 
author,  and  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  grasp  its 
spirit,  and  give  it  with  good  effect.  Mr.  McCul- 
lough  was  so  pleased  with  my  performance  that  he 
offered  me  an  engagement  at  the  California  Thea- 
tre in  San  Francisco,  of  which  he  was  then  the 
manager,  but  I  was  unable  to  accept  it. 

"Metamora"  was  an  old-fashioned  melodrama 
with  exaggerated  language  and  situations,  de- 
pending largely  on  the  personality  of  the  leading 


150   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

character  for  its  success.  It  had  been  a  popular 
part  with  the  late  Edwin  Forrest,  and  his  pupil 
and  successor,  ^VlcCullough,  followed  Mr.  Forrest's 
methods  and  conception  of  the  Indian  Chief  whose 
name  gave  the  title  to  the  play. 

Mr.  Collier  and  I  found  it  somewhat  diflScult  to 
remember  the  Indian  names  in  the  play,  having 
had  brief  time  to  familiarize  ourselves  with  them. 
The  leading  lady's  part,  played  by  Maud  Granger, 
was  Nahmeokee,  but  much  to  the  amusement  of 
the  lady  and  the  indignation  of  Mr.  McCullough, 
we  would  insist  on  calling  her  Tapiokee. 

The  tenure  of  Booth's  Theatre  by  Jarrett  & 
Palmer  was  drawing  to  a  close  and  following  the 
McCullough  engagement  several  of  the  oflScers  of 
the  theatre  took  benefits;  notably  Commodore 
Tooker,  our  popular  acting  manager.  '  *  The  Lady 
of  Lyons"  was  the  bill.  Miss  Rose  Eytinge,  a 
splendid  actress,  played  Pauline  to  the  Claude 
Melnotte  of  Mr.  Edwin  Adams  for  the  occasion. 

Edwin  Adams  had  been  a  very  popular  actor 
for  some  years,  particularly  in  * 'Enoch  Arden," 
a  dramatization  of  Tennyson's  poem  of  that  name. 
He  gave  a  romantic  and  magnetic  performance  of 
Claude.  He  was  quite  ill  at  the  time,  and  greatly 
to  the  regret  of  his  many  admirers,  died  shortly 
afterward. 

Another  benefit  was  given  for  our  stage  man- 
ager, Leon  J.  Vincent,  at  which  McCullough  ap' 
peared  as  Othello,  and  I  as  lago,  with  Maud 
Granger  as  Desdemona  and  Madame  Ponisi  as 
Emelia. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   151 

In  the  part  of  Othello,  McCullough  was  at  his 
best.  I  liked  him  better  in  the  part  than  Salvini, 
the  great  Italian  actor.  The  latter  gentleman  may 
have  been  more  true  to  the  character  of  a  Moor 
in  his  overmastering  masculinity  and  tigerish 
ferocity,  but  McCullough  was  more  consistent  to 
the  character  as  drawn  by  Shakespeare.  The  sim- 
ple majesty  of  manhood  in  the  earlier  scene,  the 
deep  sorrow  of  the  thought  of  Desdemona's  infi- 
delity and  the  pathetic  passion  of  the  distracted 
soul  that  killed  and  yet  loved  the  object  of  its  sac- 
rifice seemed  to  me  the  realization  of  the  poet's 
conception. 

Finally  the  night  of  my  benefit  came.  May  30. 
With  a  generosity  that  was  a  characteristic,  John 
McCullough  volunteered  his  services.  We  gave 
John  Banim's  old  play  * 'Damon  and  P3rthias," 
with  McCullough  as  Damon  and  myself  as  Pythias. 
Following  the  play  Miss  Maud  Granger  and  I  gave 
the  balcony  scene  from  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  con- 
cluding with  Douglas  Jerrold's  drama,  "Black- 
eyed  Susan,"  in  which  I  played  William,  the  Brit- 
ish sailor. 

It  was  a  long  and  varied  bill  that  proved  very 
attractive.  The  house  was  crowded,  and  I  quote 
with  some  pride  an  extract  from  the  New  York 
Herald  of  the  following  morning:  "The  dashing 
young  beneficiary  must  be  a  great  favorite  with 
the  ladies,  for  they  mustered  in  grand  force,  and 
their  symathetic  faces  and  spring  bonnets  made 
the  parterre  glow  like  a  garden." 

Jhe  reviewer  did  not  record  an  embarrassing 


152   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

incident  that  occurred  in  "Black-eyed  Susan." 
My  young  son,  aged  six,  was  sitting  in  a  box  with 
his  mother.  In  one  of  the  scenes  I,  in  the  char- 
acter of  William,  had  to  take  Susan  in  my  arms, 
and  embrace  her  affectionately.  Apparently  re- 
alizing the  impropriety  of  this  proceeding  thei 
young  rascal  exclaimed  in  his  shrill,  childish 
treble,  that  was  heard  all  over  the  house:  "Oh, 
mamma,  look  at  papa  and  the  lady."  The  boy 
received  a  bigger  round  of  applause  for  his  speech 
than  had  been  given  during  the  evening. 

The  lease  and  management  of  Booth's  Theatre 
terminated  with  my  benefit  performance. 

Shortly  afterward,  on  May  14,  the  theatre  re- 
opened for  a  brief  spring  season  under  the  man- 
agement of  George  Rignold,  TiUotson  and  Brown. 
I  was  engaged  as  stage  manager. 

We  produced  "Alone,"  a  little  three-act  domes- 
tic drama  in  which  Mr.  Rignold  had  been  success- 
ful in  London,  with  "Black-eyed  Susan"  as  an 
after  piece,  in  which  Rignold  played  William  and 
danced  an  old-fashioned  sailor's  hornpipe,  play- 
ing his  own  accompaniment  on  the  violin. 

This  accomplishment  was  quite  a  revelation  to 
theatre-goers,  but  Rignold 's  experience  had  been 
varied.  In  his  youth  he  had  traveled  with  his 
father's  company  in  the  small  towns  of  the  Eng- 
lish provinces  and  frequently  had  to  act  the  lead- 
ing parts  in  the  plays,  and  between  the  acts,  play 
the  violin  in  the  orchestra,  wearing  a  cloak  to 
conceal  the  costume  of  his  part. 

On  May  17  the  debut  of  a  distinguished  amateur 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   153 

was  announced  in  the  character  of  Juliet,  in 
** Romeo  and  Juliet."  She  was  a  very  beautiful 
woman,  the  granddaughter  of  a  bishop,  the  wife  of 
a  wealthy  New  York  gentleman,  and  sister  to  a 
well-known  naval  officer.  Her  name  was  Mrs. 
Harry  Slaughter,  but  she  appeared  under  her 
maiden  name,  Miss  Marie  Wainwright.  Rignold 
rehearsed  the  part  of  Romeo  with  her,  but  at  the 
last  moment  declined  to  play  it,  and  I  was  substi- 
tuted; Mark  Bates,  the  father  of  the  present  popu- 
lar actress,  Blanche  Bates,  being  engaged  for 
Mercutio. 

Miss  Wainwright  made  an  emphatic  success  as 
Juliet,  so  Rignold  decided  to  play  Romeo  the  sec- 
ond and  succeeding  performances  and  I  was  rele- 
gated to  Mercutio. 

Miss  Wainwright  was  a  lady  of  culture  and  re- 
finement and  the  following  season  played  the 
French  Princess  in  "Henry  the  Fifth,"  and  all  of 
the  leading  female  parts  with  Rignold  on  his  tour 
of  the  country.  Subsequently  she  was  leading 
lady  at  'the  Boston  Theatre,  and  for  several  years 
supported  Lawrence  Barrett  in  his  repertoire  of 
classic  plays.  She  then  starred  for  several  sea- 
sons with  Louis  James,  and  more  recently  played 
Truth  in  the  symbolic  play,  "Every woman." 

After  Miss  Wainwright 's  engagement  we  pro- 
duced "Amos  Clark,"  and  on  May  30,  George. 
Rignold  took  a  farewell  benefit  and  gave  one  of 
the  most  extraordinary  and  unique  entertainments 
it  was  ever  my  fortune  to  witness  or  to  take 
part  in. 


154   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

The  play  was  ** Romeo  and  Juliet."  Rignold 
played  Romeo.  I  was  Mercutio,  but  the  part  of 
Juliet  was  played  by  seven  different  ladies.  Miss 
Neilson  was  to  have  appeared  in  the  balcony  scene, 
but  excused  herself  at  the  last  moment  and,  if  I 
remember  rightly.  Miss  Lily  Eldridge  was  substi- 
tuted. The  rest  of  the  part  was  divided  as  fol- 
lows: 

The  Nurse  and  Marriage  scenes  by  Miss  Ada 
Dyas;  the  Potion  scene,  Miss  Fanny  Davenport; 
the  Banishment  scene.  Miss  Maud  Granger;  the 
Parting  scene.  Miss  Marie  Wainwright;  the  Mas- 
querade scene,  Miss  Grace  D'Urfrey;  the  Tomb 
scene.  Miss  Minnie  Cummings. 

The  first  problem  that  presented  itself  was  the 
assignment  of  dressing  rooms.  Being  the  stage 
manager,  that  task  fell  to  me.  Do  you  realize  it? 
Seven  visiting,  volunteer  stars  and  only  one  star 
dressing  room!  Yet  they  were  all  located  satis- 
factorily without  friction  or  discontent.  Where 
was  the  alleged  temperament  of  the  star  and  the 
leading  lady?  In  those  days  it  was  almost  an 
unknown  quantity. 

Most  of  the  names  in  the  above  cast  were  as  fa- 
miliar to  New  York  theatre-goers  as  their  own. 
Years  of  faithful  service  had  made  them  favorites 
with  the  public  and  comrades  in  the  profession. 
They  came  to  the  theatre  to  play  a  part,  to  oblige 
a  comrade  and  please  the  public,  and  the  color  of 
the  wall  paper  or  the  style  of  the  furniture  of  their 
dressing-rooms  did  not  affect  their  conception  or 
performance  of  their  part. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    155 

As  Mercutio,  I  met  Juliet  but  once,  in  the  Mas- 
querade scene,  so  my  task  was  easy,  but  Rignold 
as  Romeo  had  to  meet  one  lady  at  the  ball,  greet 
another  on  the  balcony,  marry  a  third  in  the 
Priory,  take  leave  of  a  fourth,  and  find  still  an- 
other dead  in  the  tomb  of  the  Capulets.  In  the 
meantime  a  sixth  lady  bewailed  his  banishment 
and  the  seventh,  driven  to  desperation,  defied  her 
parents  and  swallowed  a  sleeping  potion  in  the 
hope  of  awaking  and  meeting  him  again. 

The  physique  and  complexion  of  the  ladies  dif- 
fered. I  did  not  learn  how  Rignold  felt  about  it, 
but  it  must  have  seemed  strange  to  have  wooed  a 
petite  brunette  on  the  balcony,  married  a  mature 
lady  of  dark  complxion  like  Miss  Ada  Dyas,  taken 
leave  of  a  lithe  beautiful  blonde  like  Miss  Wain- 
wright  and  find  a  buxom  lady  with  chestnut  curls 
in  the  tomb  of  her  family. 

The  occasion  attracted  an  immense  audience 
and  the  several  ladies  and  handsome  beneficiary 
were  vigorously  applauded,  but— I  quote  from  a 
review  in  the  press  the  following  morning:  "It 
was  a  fearful  and  wonderful  performance.'* 

The  Rignold-Tillotson  management  closed 
shortly  after  the  above  performance  and  I  played 
no  more  at  Booth's  Theatre.  It  was  subsequently 
leased  by  Mr.  Stetson  of  Boston,  several  big  pro- 
ductions made,  but  in  a  few  years  the  property 
was  sold,  and  the  magnificent  theatre  that  Edwin 
Booth  had  built  to  perpetuate  the  most  honored 
name  in  the  annals  of  the  American  stage,  became 
an  office  building  and  a  dry  goods  store. 


156   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

The  outer  walls  are  still  standing  in  their  archi- 
tectural beauty  and  dignity.  Only  a  small  bronze 
tablet  on  the  Twenty-third  street  facade  reminds 
old  theatre  goers  of  the  splendid  institution  that 
once  flourished  there,  and  of  the  indifference  of 
the  people  of  New  York  to  the  efforts  of  that 
worthy  gentleman  and  great  actor  who  had 
founded  it  to  provide  a  worthy  home  for  the 
drama  in  the  metropolis  of  his  country. 

I  had  spent  practically  three  years  at  the  thea- 
tre, established  myself  in  the  regard  of  New  York 
play-goers  there,  and  been  associated  with  the  his- 
toric dramatic  events  that  had  occurred  on  its 
boards,  and  the  ignominious  termination  of  its 
existence  was  a  source  of  deep  sorrow  to  me. 

The  following  season  I  was  engaged  by  Mr.  J.  C. 
Duff,  as  leading  man  for  the  Broadway  Theatre, 
formerly  known  as  Woods's  Theatre.  Mr.  James 
Morrisey,  quite  a  worthy  rival  of  Commodore 
Tooker  as  a  publicity  agent,  was  the  acting  man- 
ager. 

Our  season  was  to  open  on  August  22  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  McKee  Rankin  in  a  new  play  by  Joaquin 
MUler,  entitled  "The  Danites."  I  was  cast  for 
the  part  of  a  western  gambler  called  "The  Par- 
son"; but  I  had  never  been  in  the  extreme  West, 
where  the  scene  was  laid,  nor  had  I  ever  seen  the 
t3rpe  of  character  to  be  found  in  the  mining  camps 
of  that  far  country,  so  after  the  reading  of  the 
play,  I  was  relieved  of  the  part  and  Louis  Aldrich 
engaged  to  play  it.  He  was  most  successful,  lay- 
ing the  foundation  of  fame  and  fortune  which  he 


John  McCuUough  as  Othello 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    157 

subsequently  achieved  in  a  similar  character  in  a 
play  called  "My  Partner"  by  Hartley  Campbell. 

"The  Danites"  was  quite  a  success  and  ran  for 
several  weeks  in  New  York  and  for  several  years 
was  the  vehicle  in  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McKee^ 
Rankin  toured  the  country  with  great  success  and 
substantial  financial  results. 

The  regular  season  of  the  Broadway  Theatre 
opened  on  November  2  with  a  very  strong  dra- 
matic company  that  included  Miss  Jeffreys  Lewis 
as  the  leading  lady,  Miss  Ada  Gilman  as  the  sou- 
brette,  Mr.  James  Taylor,  Mr.  Charles  Leclerq  and 
several  other  able  and  popular  actors. 

Our  first  star  was  Mme.  Janauschek,  a  very  fine 
actress  who  spoke  with  a  strong  German  accent. 
She  played  "Lady  Dedlock's  Secret,"  an  adapta- 
tion from  Dickens'  novel,  "Bleak  House,"  in 
which  she  played  two  parts  of  striking  contrast, 
Lady  Dedlock,  and  Hortense,  a  French  maid,  with 
great  effect.  Another  play  in  which  she  appeared 
was  "Brunhilde,"  a  dramatization  of  one  of  the 
Nibelungen  legends.  Next  to  the  Meg  Merrilies 
of  Charlotte  Cushman,  it  was  one  of  the  most 
realistic  performances  I  ever  saw. 

I  played  the  part  of  Siegfried,  a  young  warrior, 
who  would  not  respond  to  the  amorous  advances 
of  Brunhilde.  In  a  very  powerful  scene  with  her, 
my  cap  fell  off,  and  remained  on  the  scene  at  its 
close.  The  stage  manager  instructed  a  super- 
numerary to  go  on  and  remove  it.  The  young 
man,  ambitious  to  be  an  actor,  walked  on,  ex-i 
pressed  surprise  when  he  saw  the  cap,  took  it  up. 


158   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

and  exclaimed:  "Ah!  The  noble  Siegfried's  cap, 
I  will  wear  it,"  put  it  on  his  head  and  walked  off, 
much  to  the  amusement  of  the  audience  and  the 
indignation  of  the  stage  manager,  who  promptly 
suppressed  the  young  man's  aspirations. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
First  Visit  to  California. 

On  November  26,  Mr.  Duff  made  quite  an  elabo- 
rate production  of  Shakespeare's  "Anthony  and 
Cleopatra,"  with  Miss  Rose  Eytinge  as  the  Egyp- 
tian Queen  and  myself  as  Antony. 

Miss  Eytinge  was  a  very  fine  actress  and  a  very 
handsome  woman.  Her  dark  complexion  and 
physical  charms  gave  her  an  ideal  appearance  for 
the  part  of  Cleopatra,  and  her  splendid  acting 
fully  realized  the  "Glorious  serpent  of  the  Nile" 
that  had  captured  the  hearts  of  three  of  the  great- 
est warriors  of  the  world. 

During  our  run  of  "Antony  and  Cleopatra"  Mr. 
Augustin  Daly  gave  his  annual  benefit  for  the 
Catholic  Orphan  Asylum  at  the  Academy  of  Music. 
Most  of  the  actors  in  New  York,  including  Miss 
Eytinge  and  myself,  volunteered  their  services. 
Miss  Eytinge  was  to  give  a  recitation  and  I  was 
to  deliver  Marc  Antony's  address  over  the  body 
of  Caesar.  The  bill  was  a  long  one,  and  we  were 
to  appear  late  in  the  evening. 

My  costume  for  Marc  Antony's  address  being 
the  same  that  I  had  worn  at  the  Broadway  Theatre 
I  went  to  the  Academy  in  a  carriage  fully  dressed 
as  the  Roman  orator,  my  dresser  accompanying 

159 


160   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

me  and  canying  my  modem  clothes  in  a  suit  case. 

I  concluded  the  performance  and  proceeded  to 
change  my  Roman  costume  to  modem  dress,  when 
I  discovered  to  my  horror  that  my  dresser  had 
failed  to  put  my  trousers  in  the  suit  case,  and  the 
only  garment  I  had  to  cover  my  nether  limbs  was 
my  underwear,  or  a  pair  of  flesh  colored  tights. 

It  was  now  past  midnight  and  my  friends  were 
waiting  for  me  to  join  them  at  a  supper  on  thd 
stage. 

My  dresser  took  a  carriage  back  to  the  Broad- 
way Theatre,  fourteen  blocks  away,  and  when  he 
got  there  the  stage  door  was  locked,  and  the  night 
watchman  on  his  rounds.  It  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore he  returned  to  his  post,  and  when  he  did  so, 
it  took  a  still  longer  time  to  make  him  understand 
the  circumstances  and  admit  my  man;  nearly  two 
hours  passed  before  I  was  relieved  from  my  em- 
barrassing situation.  In  the  meantime  my  friends 
were  enjoying  themselves  on  the  stage,  with  con- 
siderable mirth  at  my  expense  while  I  sat  alone  in 
my  dressing  room  in  a  combination  costume,  the 
upper  part  modem,  the  lower  antique. 

I  reached  my  home  at  about  3  a.m.  with  feelings 
that  can  be  better  imagined  than  described. 

* 'Antony  and  Cleopatra"  was  followed  by  the 
engagement  of  the  great  French  romantic  actor 
Charles  Fechter,  who  appeared  in  "Monte 
Cristo,"  "No  Thoroughfare,"  "Ruy  Bias"  and 
"Hamlet." 

In  spite  of  Fechter 's  advanced  years  and  obese 
figure,  he  was  an  actor  of  great  charm,  and  in  cer- 


Frederick  Warde  as  Brutus  in   "Julius   Caesar' 


PIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   161 

tain  characters  unapproachable.  He  had  all  the 
delicate  finesse  of  the  French  school,  with  a  verve 
and  dash  in  romantic  parts  that  was  simply  cap- 
tivating. He  was  an  excellent  swordsman,  an  ac- 
complishment that  gave  grace  to  his  every  move- 
ment. He  acted  from  the  tips  of  his  fingers  to 
his  feet,  and  his  business  in  all  of  his  characters 
was  most  elaborate. 

In  his  hands  the  romance  of  Edmond  Dantes, 
the  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,  became  a  convincing 
reality.  Obenreizer  in  "No  Thoroughfare"  lived, 
and  Ruy  Bias  was  the  unhappy  youth  that  "hid 
beneath  a  lackey's  garb  the  passions  of  a  king.'* 

Fechter's  Hamlet  was  French  in  conception  and 
portrayal.  A  man  who  yielded  to  intense  grief, 
that  all  his  philosophical  reflection  could  not 
soothe.  It  seemed  in  his  performance  that  instead 
of  "the  native  hue  of  resolution,"  being  "sicklied 
o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought,"  it  was 
drowned  in  tears. 

In  the  final  scene  of  the  play,  he  awoke  to  action, 
his  business  of  killing  the  king  was  most  effective 
and  his  death  scene  tenderly  pathetic. 

He  wore  a  long  blonde  wig,  and  made  up  with  a 
slight  mustache  and  beard,  a  striking  contrast  to 
the  raven  locks  and  smooth  face  of  Edwin  Booth 
in  the  same  character. 

This  engagement  was  Fechter's  last  appearance 
in  New  York.  Even  at  that  time  he  was  a  very 
sick  man  and  was  only  able  to  get  through  his 
parts  with  the  aid  of  stimulants.  He  died  the  fol- 
lowing year.    He  was  a  great  romantic  actor,  and 


162   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

brought  to  the  American  stage  a  consummate  art 
ithat  left  its  impress,  and  served  as  a  model  of! 
delicacy  and  finesse  to  our  young  actors  whose 
methods  were  founded  on  broader  lines,  but  with 
lesser  detail  in  dramatic  impersonation. 

Our  next  visitor  was  an  English  actor  who  had 
spent  some  years  and  achieved  quite  a  success  in 
Australia,  Mr.  Alfred  Dampier.  He  was  accom- 
panied by  his  two  young  daughters.  They  ap- 
peared in  a  humorous  adaptation  of  a  book  that 
had  been  very  popular  called  "Helen's  Babies." 
The  play  was  amusing  but  of  little  dramatic  value. 

Subsequently  Mr.  Dampier  appeared  in  the  dual 
roles  of  Lesurges  and  Dubosc,  in  "The  Lyons 
Mail,"  a  French  melodrama  that  Henry  Irving 
had  recently  revived  in  London,  but  neither  the 
play  or  the  actor  made  any  great  impression. 

Possibly  the  most  important  production  of  Mr. 
Duff's  season  was  "The  Exiles,"  a  Russian  melo- 
drama that  had  made  a  great  success  in  Paris  and 
London.  Controversy  in  the  courts  as  to  Mr. 
Duff's  right  to  produce  the  play  had  given  it  a 
splendid  advertisement,  the  management  had 
taken  every  advantage  of  the  opportunity  for  pub- 
licity, and  its  advent  was  anticipated  with  great 
interest. 

George  Fawcett  Rowe  had  made  our  version  of 
the  play;  elaborate  scenery  had  been  prepared  and 
the  long  list  of  characters  were  represented  by  a 
very  strong  cast  that  included:  Milnes  Levick,  as 
Schelm,  Chief  of  Police;  Alfred  Dampier,  as  Count 
Lanine;  F.  B.  Warde,  as  Muller  of  MuUerhausen; 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   163 

Robert  Brower,  as  the  Czar  of  Russia;  Miss  Jef- 
freys Lewis,  as  the  Countess  Lanine;  Miss  Emily 
Rigl,  as  her  sister,  in  addition  to  Mr.  Charles  Le- 
clerq,  Mr.  B.  T.  Ringold,  W.  J.  Coggswell,  Miss 
Minnie  Cummings,  Miss  Alice  Grey  and  Ada  Gil- 
man. 

"The  Exiles"  was  a  melodrama  pure  and  sim- 
ple, but  it  possessed  the  very  necessary  quality  of 
sympathetic  human  interest  and  in  consequence 
was  a  substantial  success. 

I  note  that  I  have  failed  to  record  above  some 
very  important  characters  in  the  play— two  rein- 
deer and  six  dogs,  that  were  used  to  draw  the  sleds 
in  one  of  the  snow  scenes. 

The  dogs  acted  very  well,  but  I  can't  say  as 
much  for  the  reindeer;  in  fact,  one  of  them  nearly 
brought  the  play  to  an  abrupt  conclusion,  and  al- 
most stampeded  the  audience  on  the  first  sight. 

Instead  of  following  the  trail  of  the  dogs,  the 
animal,  frightened  by  the  glare  of  the  footlights, 
broke  from  his  harness  and  leaped  clear  over  the 
head  of  the  leader  of  the  orchestra  into  the  center 
aisle  of  the  theatre,  and  started  for  the  doors. 

Fortunately  some  of  his  harness  remained  on 
him  and  he  was  captured  before  any  great  harm 
had  been  done,  other  than  to  scare  the  members 
of  the  orchestra  almost  out  of  their  wits  and  give 
the  audience  a  sensation  not  anticipated  by  the 
management.  Later  the  same  reindeer  became 
more  tractable  and  really  acted  with  reassuring 
docility. 

**The    Exiles"    ran   successfully   for   several 


164   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

weeks,  and  closed  our  dramatic  season  at  the 
Broadway,  after  which  we  took  the  play  to  St. 
Louis  and  Chicago,  where  it  repeated  its  New 
York  success. 

On  my  return  to  the  city,  I  was  offered  the  part 
of  Henry  Beauclerc  in  * 'Diplomacy,"  by  T.  Henry 
French  and  H.  J.  Montague,  who  were  to  take  the 
play  to  the  California  Theatre,  San  Francisco,  for 
a  four  weeks'  engagement,  and  to  play  in  Chicago 
on  our  return  trip.  Eagerly  I  accepted  the  propo- 
sition. 

"Diplomacy"  was  an  English  adaptation  of  a 
French  play  by  Sardou  called  "Dora."  It  had 
been  a  great  success  in  Paris,  in  London  and  in 
New  York,  where  it  had  a  long  run  at  Wallack's 
Theatre,  Lester  Wallack  playing  the  part  for 
which  I  was  now  engaged. 

The  company  with  whom  I  was  to  be  associated 
was  a  delightful  one  and  included  Miss  Jeffreys 
Lewis,  Miss  Maud  Granger,  Mr.  H.  J.  Montague, 
Mr.  John  Carroll  and  Mr.  J.  W.  Shannon,  all  ex- 
perienced actors  and  old  friends. 

We  went  directly  from  New  York  to  San  Fran- 
cisco, then  a  journey  of  seven  days. 

What  a  charming  trip  it  was  across  the  great 
continent  of  America.  I  had  never  been  west  of 
the  Missouri  River  and  everything  was  new  and 
of  the  greatest  interest  to  me.  There  were  no 
dining  cars.  We  stopped  at  meal  stations  which 
relieved  the  monotony  of  travel  and  in  the  interim 
studied  and  rehearsed  our  parts. 

After  we  reached  Omaha,  a  new  world  seemed 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    165 

to  open  before  me— the  broad  prairies  of  Nebraska 
gradually  rising  till  we  reached  the  crest  of  the 
Rockies,  then  the  descent  on  the  western  slopei 
through  Echo  and  Ogden  canyons  to  the  Great 
Salt  Lake,  across  the  great  American  Desert  to 
the  Sierra  Nevadas— up  again  and  across  those 
majestic  mountains  until  we  descended  into  the 
Sacramento  Valley  with  its  iBowers  and  fruit  to 
the  great  western  metropolis  on  the  shores  of  the 
Pacific  Ocean. 

I  saw  the  American  Indian  in  their  almost  prim- 
itive condition,  squatting  in  the  shade  of  the 
freight  sheds,  their  tepees  clustered  in  the  distance 
or  riding  on  the  steps  of  the  cars,  as  they  were 
then  permitted  to  do.  The  buffalo  had  practically 
disappeared,  but  in  Nebraska  we  saw  several  herds 
of  antelope  in  the  near-by  hills,  and  in  the  evening 
it  was  not  unusual  to  see  wolves  and  coyotes  slink- 
ing away  in  the  gloaming. 

It  was  a  wonderful  journey  that  would  take  a 
far  abler  pen  than  mine  to  describe  and  a  volume 
to  encompass. 

At  Sacramento  the  train  as  met  by  representa- 
tives of  the  press  who  took  the  names,  the  business 
and  places  of  residence  of  the  overland  passengers 
and  wired  them  to  the  San  Francisco  papers. 

In  our  case  we  were  met  there  by  Mr.  Barton 
Hill,  and  some  friends,  who  loaded  us  with  flowers 
and  fruits,  and  gave  us  the  first  suggestion  of  the 
greeting  and  welcome  we  were  to  receive  on  our 
arrival  at  our  destination. 

Then  came  the  final  stage  of  our  journey.    The 


166   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

trip  from  Oakland  on  those  wonderful  ferry  boats. 
TJie  great  bay  of  San  Francisco  and  our  firsti 
glimpse  of  the  city.  The  glorious  welcome,  which 
surpassed  anything  I  have  ever  experienced  in  its 
warmth  and  cordiality,  and  then  the  splendid 
Palace  Hotel,  so  worthy  of  its  name.  It  was  all 
so  wonderful  it  seemed  more  like  a  dream  from 
the  Arabian  Nights  than  an  actual  reality. 

We  opened  at  the  grand  old  California  Theatre 
on  Bush  street  to  an  audience  that  tested  its  capac- 
ity.   The  full  cast  of  the  play  was  as  follows: 

Julian  Beauclerc,  Mr.  H.  J.  Montague;  Henry 
Beauclerc,  Mr.  F.  B.  Warde;  Count  Orloff,  Mr. 
John  Carroll;  Baron  Stein,  Mr.  J.  W.  Shan- 
non; Algie  Fairfax,  Mr.  Nick  Long;  Mark- 
ham,  Mr.  John  Wilson;  Dora,  Miss  Maud 
Granger;  Countess  Zicka,  Miss  Jeffreys  Lewis; 
Marquise  de  Rio  Zares,  Miss  Emily  Mestayer; 
Lady  Henry  Fairfax,  Miss  Hattie  Roch;  Mion, 
Miss  Jennie  Arnot. 

"Diplomacy"  was  an  instantaneous  success  and 
played  to  splendid  business  for  nearly  four  weeks. 
We  were  all  very  happy,  receiving  compliments 
and  courtesies  on  all  sides. 

The  critics  gave  us  lavish  praise,  notably  Peter 
Robinson  of  the  Chronicle,  George  Barnes  of  the 
Call,  and  George  Dinsmore  of  the  Bulletin,  who 
claimed  "Diplomacy"  to  be  "a  perfect  play  of 
its  kind"  and  of  the  acting,  he  said,  "It  was  fine 
art  all  through." 

Tony  Pastor's  variety  company  from  New  York 
was  playing  at  the  Bush  street  Theatre  at  the  same 


FIFTY  YEARS  OP  MAKE-BELIEVE   167 

time  and  on  Wednesday  afternoons  Mr.  Montague, 
myself  and  sometimes  the  ladies  would  occupy  a 
box  and  enjoy  the  splendid  entertainment  pro- 
vided by  the  Kemell  brothers,  Johnny  Wild,  Prim- 
rose and  West,  the  Fontainbleu  sisters,  Kitty 
O'Neil,  Frank  Girard,  the  Irvin  sisters  and  that 
fine  coterie  of  fun  makers  Mr.  Pastor  used  to  take 
across  the  continent  every  summer.  I  think  they 
enjoyed  our  presence  there  as  much  as  we  appre- 
ciated their  clean  and  wholesome  comedy. 

Of  course  Mr.  Montague,  Shannon  Carroll  and 
myself  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  the  world  famous 
Bohemian  Club,  of  which  I  am  proud  to  be  a  life 
member.  What  a  splendid  set  of  whole-souled 
clever  men  they  were.  How  generous  they  were 
to  ability,  how  keen  to  pierce  the  bubble  of  pre- 
tense. Their  club  rooms  were  over  a  fish  market 
then— now  they  have  a  palace  on  the  hill,  but  the 
same  spirit  of  good  fellowship  is  there.  Worth 
and  Wit  are  welcome,  but  wealth  is  no  claim  to 
recognition. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  week,  Montague 
developed  a  cold  but  paid  no  serious  attention  to 
it.  *' False  Shame,"  a  comedy  by  Marshall,  was 
to  be  substituted  on  the  Friday  night  which  was 
announced  as  Mr.  Montague's  benefit.  He  re- 
hearsed daily  and  began  the  performance  of  his 
part.  Lord  Chilton,  with  no  indication  of  illness, 
but  had  scarcely  spoken  a  dozen  words,  when  he 
stepped  forward  and  said:  "Ladies  and  gentle- 
men, I  am  not  well;  excuse  me."  The  curtain  fell, 
poor  Montague  was  assisted  to  his  dressing-room. 


168  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

where  he  was  seized  with  a  hemorrhage  of  the 
lungs.  He  was  subsequently  taken  to  the  hotel 
under  the  care  of  a  physician. 

The  audience  was  a  large  one,  and  the  manage- 
ment was  anxious  that  they  should  not  be  de- 
prived of  a  performance— so  I  undertook  to  play 
the  part  of  Lord  Chilton  (having  previously 
played  it  in  New  York)  and  Mr.  Barton  Hill  read 
the  part  I  was  to  have  played,  Captain  Bragleigh, 
from  the  manuscript,  and  to  quote  the  press  of  the 
following  morning,  "the  strange,  fickle,  capricious 
audience  positively  enjoyed  the  performance,  and 
went  home  well  satisfied." 

Late  that  night  the  physicians  reported  Monta- 
gue to  be  recovering,  giving  us  all  great  encour- 
agement. 

For  the  matinee  and  night  of  Saturday,  we  sub- 
stituted makeshift  performances  of  scenes  from 
various  plays  and  closed  our  engagement;  in  the 
meantime  Mr.  Montague's  condition  appeared  to 
improve. 

We  were  scheduled  to  leave  San  Francisco  on 
Monday  for  the  East,  so  on  Sunday  I  went  across 
the  bay  to  Sausalito  to  spend  a  portion  of  the  day 
with  some  friends,  returning  to  the  city  late  in 
the  afternoon,  having  a  dinner  engagement  for 
the  evening. 

I  went  to  Montague's  room  and  found  him 
greatly  improved  and  in  fine  spirits.  He  urged 
me  to  stay  and  dine  with  Mr.  Carroll,  Miss  Granger 
and  himself.  I  pleaded  my  engagement  with  a 
mutual  friend  at  the  club,  but  he  was  so  insistent 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    169 

in  urging  me  to  pass  our  last  evening  in  San  Fran- 
cisco together  that  I  sent  a  note  of  apology  to  our 
friend  and  remained. 

Our  dinner  was  served  in  his  sitting-room,  and 
we  were  enjoying  a  very  happy  time  when  Gen. 
Barton  and  Barton  Hill,  the  managers  of  the  Cali- 
fornia Theatre,  came  in,  and  together  with  Mr. 
Montague  went  into  his  adjoining  bedroom  to  set- 
tle some  business  matters  connected  with  our  en- 
gagement. 

In  a  few  minutes  Barton  Hill  came  to  the  door 
and  cried,  "Send  for  Dr.  0 'Toole,  Montague  has 
another  hemorrhage."  I  seized  my  hat,  ran  to 
the  elevator,  descended  to  the  court,  took  a  cab 
and  hurried  to  Dr.  0 'Toole's  office.  He  was  not 
there.  I  went  to  his  house  and  his  club  but  could 
not  find  him,  then  I  returned  to  the  hotel  and  to 
Montague's  room.  He  was  lying  on  the  bed,  our 
friends  and  a  resident  physician  of  the  hotel  stand- 
ing around  him. 

I  went  to  his  side,  raised  his  head  to  my  shoulder 
and  called  him  by  name.  The  physician  said  "It 
is  useless,  Mr.  Warde,  he  is  gone."  It  was  true. 
He  gave  a  half  sigh,  and  poor  Harry  Montague 
was  dead  on  my  breast. 

Instead  of  leaving  the  next  day,  we  held  funeral 
services  over  the  body  of  our  dead  comrade  and 
friend.  How  kind  and  considerate  everyone  was. 
Grief  at  his  death  was  general,  and  many  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  social  and  professional  promi- 
nence attended  the  services.  The  room  was  a  per- 
fect bower  of  flowers.    Miss  Sharon,  daughter  of 


170   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

the  Senator,  who  afterward  became  Lady  Hesketh, 
arranged  the  blossoms  and  gentle  sjrmpathetic 
friends  attended  to  the  details.  The  Episcopal 
service  was  rendered,  the  last  look  taken  at  the 
still  quiet  face  and  tears  fell  freely  as  the  casket 
closed. 

Montague  had  never  married.  Many  women 
had  admired  and  some  had  loved  him.  Of  his  per- 
sonal affairs  I  knew  little,  but  I  found  among  his 
effects  a  carte  de  visite  of  an  English  lady,  an  ac- 
tress, with  an  inscription  on  the  back  that  led  me 
to  believe  he  had  loved  her,  and  I  placed  it  on  his 
breast  when  the  body  was  dressed  for  burial. 

The  following  day  the  same  company  that  had 
arrived  so  happily  five  weeks  before  started  on  the 
homeward  journey— one  of  the  company  only  a 
memory,  the  rest  oppressed  with  sorrow. 

Time,  like  sleep,  is  the  "balm  of  hurt  minds" 
and  has  softened  the  sadness  of  those  days  and 
left  only  the  remembrance  of  the  generous  wel- 
come, the  great  big  broad  hospitality  and  S5mipa- 
thetic  kindness  of  the  people  who  have  made  that 
great  empire  of  the  West— a  land  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey,  blossoming  like  the  rose,  with  a 
past  that  can  boast  of  courage,  endurance  and  en- 
terprise that  like  Caesar— came,  saw  and  over- 
came, and  a  future  so  bright,  that  the  strongest 
eyes  are  dazzled  by  the  vision. 

My  wanderings  have  brought  me  to  the  Golden 
West  many  times  since  my  first  visit  recorded 
above,  each  visit  strengthening  old  friendships, 
gaining  new  ones,  and  increasing  my  esteem  and 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   171 

affection  for  the  people  who  have  ever  been  so 
indulgent  toward  my  faults,  and  generous  in  their 
substantial  appreciation  of  such  ability  as  I  am 
fortunate  enough  to  possess. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Warde-Barrymore  Diplomacy  Company. 

On  reaching  Chicago  on  our  return  journey,  Miss 
Granger,  Mr.  Shannon  and  Mr.  Carroll  decided  to 
accompany  Mr.  Montague's  body  to  New  York. 
Miss  Jeffreys  Lewis  had  remained  in  California. 

Having  paid  all  the  respect  and  given  all  that 
esteem  and  affection  could  give  to  the  dead,  I 
felt  it  my  duty  to  fulfill  my  obligations  to  the  liv- 
ing; so  I  remained  in  Chicago,  rehearsed,  and 
after  a  week's  postponement  produced  "Diplo- 
macy" at  McVicker's  Theatre. 

I  played  Henry  Beauclerc  as  before,  Maurice 
Barrymore  was  engaged  for  Julian,  and  the  other 
parts  were  cast  to  the  members  of  the  stock  com- 
pany of  the  theatre  as  follows: 

Dora Miss  Meroe  Charles 

Countess  Zicka Miss  Affie  Weaver 

Lady  Henry  Fairfax Miss  Alice  Hastings 

Marquise Mrs.  Carrie  Jamieson 

Baron  Stein Mr.  Harry  Pearson 

Count  Orloff Mr.  Edwards 

Algie  Fairfax Mr.  Roland  Reed 

The  play  ran  two  weeks  to  capital  business,  but 
Mr.  T.  Henry  French,  Montague's  surviving  part- 

172 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    173 

ner,  decided  not  to  continue  the  tour.  Barrymore 
and  myself  entered  into  partnership  under  the 
name  of  Warde  and  Barrymore  and  bought  the 
rights  of  the  play  for  the  United  States  and  Can- 
ada. 

Without  loss  of  time  we  made  our  plans,  en- 
gaged our  business  staff  and  selected  the  company. 
Two  Italian  artists  of  great  ability,  Signer  and 
Madame  Majeroni,  who  had  not  been  as  success- 
ful in  this  country  as  they  deserved,  were  in  Chi- 
cago and,  fortunately  for  us,  at  liberty,  so  we  en- 
gaged them  for  the  parts  of  Count  Orloff  and  the 
Countess  Zicka. 

Our  full  cast  was  as  follows: 

Julian  Beauclerc Maurice  Barrymore 

Henry  Beauclerc F.  B.  Warde 

Baron  Stein H.  Rees  Davies 

Count  Orloflf Signer  Majeroni 

A-lgie  Fairfax John  Drew 

Markham Herbert  Ayling 

Dora Georgie  Drew  Barrymore 

Countess  Zicka Madame  Majeroni 

Lady  Henry  Fairfax Miss  Annie  Edmondson 

Marquise  de  Rio  Zares Mrs.  E.  F.  Baker 

Mr.  Ed.  Zimmerman  was  our  agent  in  advance 
and  Mr.  Phil  Simmonds  our  business  manager. 

The  company  was  an  excellent  one  and  gave  a 
splendid  performance  of  the  play,  but  the  title, 
"Diplomacy,"  conveyed  little  meaning  to  the 
country  at  large  at  that  time   (1878).    Neither 


174   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Barrymore  nor  myself  were  known  as  "stars," 
and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  our  performance 
greatly  pleased  our  audiences  and  received  the 
warmest  expressions  of  praise  from  the  press,  our 
business  was  not  financially  satisfactory. 

On  reaching  Washington,  D.  C,  Mr.  Barrjmiore 
ancT  I  differed  as  to  our  future  policy.  He  desired 
to  go  South  and  West,  I  to  the  North  and  East. 
We  decided  to  separate  and  form  two  companies, 
which  were  cast  as  follows: 

Northern  company  Southern  company 

Julian  Beauclerc F.  B.  Warde.  .Maurice  Barrymore 

Henry  Beauclerc,  .Henry  Dalton. . 

Baron  Stein Geo.  Jordan.  .H.  Rees  Davies 

Count  Orloff Harry  Lacey. . 

Algie  Fairfax Herbert  Ayling. . 

Dora Annie  Edmondson.  .Josephine  Baker 

Dountess  Zicka.Gabrielle  du  Sauld.  .EUen  Cummins 

Marquise Carrie  Jamieson.  .Mrs.  £.  F.  Baker 

Lady  Fairfax Adelaide  Cherie. . 

My  company  followed  the  route  laid  out  for  us 
with  moderate  success  without  any  special  inci- 
dents of  interest,  but  Barrymore 's  company  met 
with  a  terrible  tragedy  that  resulted  in  the  violent 
death  of  Mr.  Ben  Porter,  the  serious  wounding  of 
Barrymore  and  the  breaking  up  of  the  company. 

It  was  at  Marshall,  Texas.  The  company  had 
played  at  the  Opera  House  there  and  were  waiting 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   175 

for  the  north  bound  Texas  and  Pacific  train  that 
was  to  leave  some  time  after  midnight  and  take 
them  to  Texarkana. 

Mr.  Barrymore,  Mr.  Porter  and  Miss  Cummins 
were  seated  at  the  lunch  counter  having  some  sup- 
per. The  counter,  backed  by  a  long  mirror,  ran 
the  entire  length  of  the  room,  which  was  also  used 
as  a  bar  divided  only  by  a  standing  screen.  One 
man  was  serving  both  bar  and  lunch  counter,  and 
the  patrons  of  each  department  were  visible  to  the 
other  by  means  of  the  mirror. 

An  employee  of  the  railroad  named  Jim  Currie, 
was  lounging  at  the  bar,  somewhat  the  worse  for 
liquor.  He  made  several  offensive  remarks  di- 
rected at  Miss  Cummins.  The  bartender  en- 
deavored to  quiet  him,  explaining  who  the  people 
were.  Currie  refused  to  be  quieted,  and  coming 
round  the  screen  made  another  insulting  remark 
directly  to  them.  At  this  Barrymore  protested, 
asserting  that  they  were  passengers  waiting  for 
their  train,  taking  refreshment  in  a  place  provided 
by  the  railroad  company  for  that  purpose  and  they 
desired  to  do  so  unmolested. 

Currie  sneeringly  said,  "Will  you  take  it  up?'* 
Barrymore  replied:  "I  can't,  I'm  unarmed." 
Currie  said,  " So  am  I."  "What,  haven't  you  got 
a  pistol  on  you?"  asked  Barrymore.  "No,"  re- 
plied Currie.  "Well,  I'll  stand  up  for  a  woman, 
anyway,"  said  Barrymore,  and  started  to  take  off 
his  overcoat.  Currie  immediately  drew  a  revolver 
and  fired. 

The  ball  entered  Barrjnnore's  arm  above  the  el- 


176   FIFTY  YEARS  OP  MAKE-BELIEVE 

bow,  glanced  upwards  and  shattered  his  shoulder 
blade.  Porter  stepped  forward,  protesting,  "We 
don't  want  any  trouble  of  this  kind,"  when  Currie 
lowered  his  gun  and  shot  Porter  through  the  body 
Porter  was  carried  to  the  waiting  room  and  died 
in  about  twenty  minutes,  the  ball  faUing  from  his 
back  as  he  was  being  undressed. 

It  was  a  cold-blooded,  cowardly  murder,  and 
the  press  and  the  people  of  Texas  expressed  their 
horror  and  indignation  most  emphatically. 

The  good  people  of  MarshaU  were  unremitting 
m  their  attentions  to  Barrymore,  who  for  some 
six  weeks,  while  recovering  from  his  wound  was 
the  guest  of  R.  W.  Thompson,  Jr.;  the  station- 
agent  of  the  Texas  and  Pacific  Railroad.  Mr. 
Thompson  and  his  charming  wife  tended  their  pa- 
tient with  affectionate  solicitude  and  Barrymore 's 
rapid  recovery  from  his  wound  was  in  a  large 
measure  due  to  them. 

Dick  Thompson  subsequently  became  a  very 
wann  friend  of  mine,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
hg  is  now  some  years  past  three  score  and  ten, 
he  is  still  the  agent  of  the  railroad  at  Marshall. 

Jim  Currie  was  tried  and  convicted  of  murder 
in  the  first  degree.  On  a  legal  technicality  he  was 
granted  a  new  trial,  with  the  same  result.  He 
managed  through  influence  to  get  a  third  trial, 
and  was  then  acquitted  on  the  ground  of  insanity! 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  third  trial,  Barrymore 
remarked  to  the  judge:  ''This  reminds  me  of  our 
performances  in  England. "  "  How  so  ?  "  inquired 
the  gentleman.    *'We  commence  with  a  tragedy 


Frederick  Warde  as  Hamlet 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   177 

and  end  with  a  farce,"  replied  Barrymore.    The 
able  jurist  made  no  reply. 

It  was  reported  some  time  afterward  that  Cur- 
rie  had  been  killed  in  a  brawl  in  a  western  mining 
camp. 

After  the  tragedy  in  Texas,  I  combined  the  com- 
panies and  reopened  at  Louisville,  Ky.,  Barrymore 
joining  us  after  his  recovery.  We  continued  the 
tour  and  closed  our  season  at  the  Arch  Street  The- 
atre in  Philadelphia. 

"Diplomacy"  was  a  great  play,  but  somewhat 
in  advance  of  the  time  for  general  audiences  who 
were  not  conversant  with  European  methods  of 
life  and  diplomatic  usage.  Its  revival  some  two 
or  three  years  ago,  when  the  voice  and  influence 
of  the  United  States  of  America  was  a  greater 
factor  in  the  destiny  of  the  world,  was  more 
timely  and,  as  a  consequence,  more  successful. 

Maurice  Barrjnnore,  whose  family  name  was 
Herbert  Bl3rthe,  was  a  most  charming  and  attrac- 
tive actor,  well  bred  and  well  read.  He  had  a 
keen  and  ready  wit  and  considerable  literary  abil- 
ity. He  had  the  courage  of  his  convictions  and 
the  mental  and  physical  ability  to  maintain  them. 
His  subsequent  career  was  brilliant  and  only  ter- 
minated with  his  premature  demise. 

Two  sons,  John  and  Lionel,  and  one  daughter, 
Ethel  Barrymore,  have  not  only  inherited  their 
father's  ability,  but  have  exceeded  the  hopes  of 
their  warmest  admirers  and  few  actors  stand 
higher  in  the  esteem  and  affection  of  playgoers  of 
the  present  day. 


178   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Prior  to  our  "Dipolmacy"  tour,  a  mutual  friend 
had  given  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Henry 
Watterson,  the  distinguished  editor  of  The  Cour- 
ior-Journal  of  Louisville,  Kentucky. 

On  reaching  that  city  I  presented  my  letter,  was 
most  cordially  received  and  Mrs.  Warde  and  my- 
self were  invited  to  take  dinner  at  the  family 
home. 

It  was  one  of  the  first  Southern  homes  I  had 
visited  and  a  revelation  to  me  of  a  beautiful  phase 
of  social  and  domestic  life  in  that  section  of  the 
United  States. 

Captain  Watterson,  father  of  "Marse"  Henry, 
was  in  dress,  carriage  and  punctilious  courtesy  "a 
gentleman  of  the  old  school." 

Standing  straight  as  an  arrow,  he  wore  a  light 
blue  body  coat  with  gilt  buttons,  a  buff  waistcoat, 
nankeen  trousers,  very  tight  with  stirrup  straps 
under  highly  polished  boots,  a  frilled  shirt  front 
and  a  white  neck  cloth.  With  a  head  surmounted 
with  a  mass  of  snow  white  hair  he  looked  like 
some  old  nobleman  who  might  have  lived  in  the 
baronial  homes  of  England  or  the  historic  cha- 
teaux of  France  a  hundred  years  ago. 

Mrs.  Watterson  made  a  fit  companion  picture 
to  her  husband.  Old  lace  framed  a  face  of  deli- 
cate refinement,  beautiful  in  its  gentle  sweetness 
and  radiant  with  happy  pride  in  her  distinguished 
son  and  gallant  husband. 

A  colored  butler,  a  sombre  counterpart  of  his 
master,  formally  announced:  * 'Dinner  is  served." 
Captain  Watterson  with  polished  courtesy  es- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   179 

corted  Mrs.  Warde,  a  very  modern  young  matron, 
to  the  table.  I  followed  with  Mrs.  Watterson  and 
*'Marse"  Henry,  like  the  well  bred  young  gentle- 
man he  was,  walked  behind. 

This  was  some  years  ago. 

I  meet  Colonel  Henry  Watterson  now,  at  re- 
gretably  long  intervals.  In  our  maturity  we  talk 
of  old  times  and  old  friends.  As  we  talk,  the  pic- 
ture of  that  old  home  in  Louisville,  the  figures  of 
that  sweet  old  lady  and  gallant  gentleman  in  their 
beautiful  domestic  life  and  their  distinguished  son 
in  his  young  manhood  rises  to  my  mind  and  I  find 
it  difficult  to  realize  the  years  that  have  passed. 
Then  I  marvel  at  the  currents  of  fate  that  divert 
and  separate  the  paths  of  men,  only  to  reunite 
them  in  reminiscent  memories. 

What  slight  incidents  to  divert  the  currents  of 
our  lives.  For  twelve  years  I  had  played  in  al- 
most every  form  of  dramatic  entertainment.  I 
had  supported  practically  all  of  the  distinguished 
actors  of  the  English  speaking  stage,  in  comedy, 
tragedy,  modern  drama  and  burlesque.  I  had  al- 
ternated great  tragic  parts  with  Edwin  Booth  and 
I  had  recently  played  a  great  modern  part  Henry 
Beauclerc  in  ''Diplomacy"  with  success.  Which 
walk  of  the  drama  should  I  follow?  My  ambition 
and  inclination  favored  the  tragic  drama.  Finan- 
cial advantage  seemed  to  attach  to  modern  plays. 
I  was  in  doubt,  when  a  chance  meeting  in  the 
street  decided  the  matter. 

Walking  on  Broadway,  New  York,  with  a  friend, 
we  met  and  I  was  introduced  to  Captain  Wm.  M. 


180   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Conner,  manager  of  John  McCullough.  After  our 
greetings,  Capt.  Conner  asked  me  what  my  plans 
were  for  the  ensuing  season.  I  replied  I  had  none. 
He  then  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  travel  with 
and  be  featured  as  the  leading  support  to  Mr. 
McCullough. 

The  proposition  was  attractive  to  me.  I  had 
already  played  with  him  in  the  greater  part  of 
his  repertoire  and  the  new  parts  were  most  con- 
genial, so  after  slight  negotiations  and  discussion, 
the  engagement  was  made. 

The  company  assembled,  and  our  season  began 
at  Hamilton,  Canada,  early  in  September. 

It  was  a  most  excellent  company  of  actors,  well 
adapted  by  ability  and  experience  for  Mr.  McCul- 
lough's  extensive  repertoire,  and  included;  Mr. 
Edmund  K.  Collier,  Mr.  John  A.  Lane,  Mr.  H.  A. 
Langdon,  Mr.  John  Sutton,  Mr.  Harry  Barton  and 
several  others.  Miss  Emma  Stockman  was  our 
leading  lady,  Mrs.  Augusta  Foster  played  the 
heavy  parts  and  Miss  Mittens  Willett  was  the  util- 
ity lady. 

Mr.  McCullough  was  extremely  popular  with 
the  company,  cordial  to  the  principals  and  kind 
and  considerate  to  the  younger  members,  who  sup- 
ported him  loyally,  giving  most  effective  perfor- 
mances and  working  together  in  perfect  harmony. 

John  McCullough  was  born  in  Colraine,  in  the 
north  of  Ireland,  and  came  to  the  United  States 
at  an  early  age  with  his  parents,  who  settled  in 
Philadelphia.  The  first  employment  young  Mc- 
Cullough obtained  was  in  the  Philadelphia  gas 


r^ 


liiUian  BusseU 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   181 

works,  where  he  was  a  helper  to  Mike  Moran,  the 
night  attendant  to  the  furnaces. 

Mike  Moran  was  a  great  admirer  of  Shakes- 
peare, and  particularly  prided  himself  on  his  de- 
livery of  Marc  Antony's  address  over  the  dead 
body  of  Caesar.  McCullough  told  me  his  first 
knowledge  of  Shakespeare  and  the  drama  was 
gained  from  Moran,  who  used  to  compel  him  to  lie 
down  on  the  ground  and  impersonate  the  dead 
Caesar  while  Moran  delivered  Antony's  speech 
standing  over  him,  and  addressing  the  open  doors 
of  the  furnaces. 

Mike  Moran  subsequently  moved  to  the  west  and 
prospered.  The  last  time  I  met  him  was  a  few 
years  ago  at  Joliet,  Ills.,  where  he  was  an  alder- 
man of  the  city. 

After  McCuUough's  experience  at  the  gas  works, 
he  was  apprenticed  to  a  chairmaker  in  Philadel- 
phia, joined  an  amateur  dramatic  company,  the 
Wheatley  Dramatic  Association,  I  think  it  was 
called,  and  finally  obtained  an  engagement  at  the 
old  Walnut  Street  Theatre. 

There  his  dramatic  ability  found  opportunity 
and  he  rose  to  the  position  of  leading  man.  Ed- 
win Forrest,  playing  a  starring  engagement  at  the 
Walnut,  was  attracted  by  his  appearance  and  abil- 
ity and  engaged  him  to  travel  as  his  leading  sup- 
port, which  he  did  until  that  great  tragedian  re- 
tired from  the  stage. 

These  facts  were  related  to  me  by  Mr.  McCul- 
lough, together  with  many  anecdotes  and  detailed 
descriptions  of  the  personality,  characteristics  and 


182   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

methods  of  Mr.  Forrest,  until  I  seem  to  have  seen 
and  known  the  great  actor  himself.  McCullough 
(had  the  greatest  esteem  and  reverence  for  the» 
memory  of  Mr.  Forrest,  and  modelled  all  of  his 
performances  on  the  conceptions  and  methods  of 
his  distinguished  preceptor,  and  with  characteris- 
tic candor  admitted  the  fact. 

I  know  of  no  actor  who  enjoyed  a  greater  popu- 
larity than  John  McCullough.  He  was  the  guest 
of  the  principal  clubs  in  the  various  cities  we  vis- 
ited, and  was  socially  entertained  in  the  homes  of 
many  of  the  most  distinguished  men  in  the  coun- 
try. 

I  am  indebted  to  John  McCullough  for  the  privi- 
lege of  many  friendships  that  I  enjoy  to  this  day 
by  his  generosity  in  presenting  me  to  his  many  dis- 
tinguished admirers  and  friends. 

I  recall  especially  the  Union  League  Club  of 
Cleveland,  Ohio,  and  the  coterie  of  prominent  and 
influential  men  that  we  met  there,  which  included 
William  McKinley,  Mark  Hanna,  later  Senator, 
William  Edwards,  father  of  General  Clarence 
Edwards,  Mr.  John  Tod,  Mr.  Gordon  and  many 
others  who  subsequently  achieved  national  dis- 
tinction. 

In  Chicago,  Cincinnati,  Washington  and  Balti- 
more Mr.  McCullough  enjoyed  the  same  popular- 
ity as  in  Cleveland,  and  if  I  did  not  share  his 
honors  I  certainly  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  the  at- 
tentions that  were  shown  him. 

McCullough  usually  played  Richard  III  on  Sat- 
urday nights.    It  was  the  closing  performance  of 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   183 

our  engagement  in  Washington,  D.  C.  General 
William  T.  Sherman  and  a  party  occupied  the 
stage  box.  The  General  followed  the  performance 
with  the  interest  of  a  boy  at  the  circus.  During 
the  concluding  combat  between  McCullough  and 
myself  he  rose  from  his  seat  and  standing  in  the 
front  of  the  box,  applauded  as  if  it  were  a  fight  for 
life  instead  of  a  prearranged  stage  combat.  Mc- 
Cullough was  excited  and  as  we  reached  the  final 
strokes  called  on  me  to  begin  the  fight  again.  1 
did  so,  and  we  continued  with  renewed  energy 
until  McCullough  was  exhausted  and  gave  me  the 
cue  to  disarm  and  "kill"  him. 

The  curtain  fell.  McCullough  had  risen.  We 
were  both  bathed  in  perspiration  and  breathing 
heavily,  when  the  General  came  excitedly  on  the 
stage,  placed  his  arms  round  our  necks,  holding 
us  on  either  side  and  said:— "Boys,  that  was 
grand!  If  I  had  an  army  of  soldiers  like  you  I'd 
fight  the  world!" 

At  St.  Louis,  Mr.  McCullough  was  very  popu- 
lar. The  old  Olympic  Theatre  was  crowded  at 
every  performance. 

i  John  Cockerill,  editor  of  the  St.  Louis  Post- 
Dispatch,  and  Mr.  McCuUoch  of  the  Globe-Demo- 
crat were  great  friends  and  admirers  of  John  Mc- 
Cullough and  extended  their  appreciation  to  me. 

Miss  Emma  Stockman,  who  was  the  wife  of  John 
,W.  Norton,  the  manager  of  the  Grand  Opera* 
House  in  St.  Louis,  left  us  in  that  city,  her  place 
being  taken  by  Miss  Kate  Forsyth,  a  beautiful  wo- 
man and  a  charming  actress,  who  played  her 


184   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

repertoire  of  parts  with  great  distinction  and  abil- 
ity. 

After  visiting  the  northern  and  central  cities 
we  went  south.  The  same  cordial  greeting  await- 
ed McCuUough  there.  I  had  covered  that  part  of 
the  country  with  Mr.  Booth,  and  it  was  a  great 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  to  me  to  return  with  Mr. 
McCuUough  and  find  that  I  was  not  forgotten. 

At  Memphis,  Tenn.,  we  played  a  full  week,  prac- 
tically under  the  auspices  of  the  Chickashaw 
Guards,  a  military  organization  composed  of  the 
prominent  young  men  of  the  city,  and  commanded 
by  a  splendid  soldier  and  disciplinarian.  Captain 
Sam  Cames,  whose  skill  and  ability  had  raised  the 
company  to  the  position  of  the  finest  military  or- 
ganization of  the  south. 

Mr.  McCuUough  had  contributed  liberally  to 
the  relief  of  the  sufferers  by  the  yellow  fever  epi- 
demic in  Memphis  some  years  before,  and  pre- 
sented a  silken  National  flag  to  the  "Chicks,"  as 
the  organization  was  familiarly  called,  and  the 
citizens  and  soldier  boys  showed  their  apprecia- 
tion by  lavish  entertainment  during  our  stay,  the 
military  officers  and  substantial  business  men  of 
the  city  entertaining  Mr.  McCuUough  and  the 
rank  and  file  taking  charge  of  the  company. 

I  date  many  sincere  friendships  from  that  very 
happy  week  with  the  Chickashaw  boys  in  Mem- 
phis. 

From  Memphis  to  NashviUe.  Another  delight- 
ful week  at  the  old  Masonic  Theatre,  where  a 


FIFTY  YEARS  OP  MAKE-BELIEVE   185 

splendid  welcome  and  generous  hospitality 
greeted  us. 

A  visit  to  General  Harding  at  the  celebrated 
Belle  Mead  breeding  farm,  the  home  of  Great  Tom 
and  Enquirer,  sires  of  so  many  kings  and  queens 
of  the  turf  was  one  of  the  features  of  our  entertain- 
ment. 

Then  to  Montgomery  and  Mobile.  Birming- 
ham, the  great  industrial  city  of  the  south  was  yet 
in  its  infancy  and  had  no  hall  or  theatre  adequate 
to  our  needs;  but  in  both  Montgomery  and  Mobile 
there  were  fine  old  theatres  rich  in  dramatic  his- 
tory and  tradition,  and  I  am  happy  to  say  they 
still  retained  the  good  old-fashioned  name  of  "the- 
atre" and  were  not  disguised  as  ** Opera  Houses," 
or  "Academies  of  Music." 

Two  interesting  and  contrasting  personalities  in 
Mobile  were  T.  C.  DeLeon,  manager  of  the  Mobile 
Theatre  and  Father  Ryan,  known  and  beloved  as 
the  Poet-Priest  of  the  South  and  as  author  of  "The 
Bonnie  Blue  Flag."  DeLeon,  keenly  intellectual, 
with  the  suavity  and  polish  of  the  French  Creole; 
Father  Ryan,  the  aesthetic,  with  long  black  hair 
and  careless  attire,  learned  and  profound. 

From  Mobile  to  New  Orleans,  playing  a  week  at 
the  old  Academy  of  Music  on  St.  Charles  Street, 
under  the  management  of  David  Bidwell. 

A  clause  in  our  contract  compelled  us  to  keep 
the  curtain  down  not  less  than  five  minutes  be- 
tween each  act,  the  reason  being  that  Mr.  Bidwell 
owned  the  saloon  in  the  front  of  the  theatre  and 


186   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

the  interval  enabled  those  in  the  audience  who  de- 
sired to  obtain  liquid  refreshment. 

It  was  at  that  time  the  custom  in  New  Orleans  to 
begin  the  matinee  performance  at  twelve  o'clock 
noon.  We  found  this  custom  very  agreeable  as  it 
gave  us  quite  a  long  rest  before  the  night  perform- 
ance. 

It  was  Mardi  Gras  week,  the  hotels  were 
crowded  and  we  had  much  difficulty  in  obtaining 
accommodations.  Many  of  the  rooms  in  private 
houses  were  preempted,  but  I  managed  to  find 
lodgings  with  a  Creole  family  in  an  old  fashioned 
French  house. 

My  room  was  very  large  with  a  high  ceiling  and 
windows  opening  to  the  floor.  It  had  a  large 
chandelier  loaded  with  crystals,  marble  topped 
furniture  and  a  huge  four-post  bedstead.  About 
seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  was  awakened  by  a 
knock  at  my  door.  I  called  out,  "Who's  there?" 
A  strange  voice  replied:  **It's  me,  honey."  I 
answered,  "All  right,  I  don't  want  to  get  up  yet." 
**I'se  brought  yoah  coffee,  honey,"  returned  the 
voice.  I  opened  the  door  and  there  stood  an  old 
negro  mammy  with  a  red  bandana  kerchief  tied 
over  her  head,  carrying  a  tray  with  several  cups  of 
black  coffee  and  some  small  pieces  of  toast.  I  said: 
"I  don't  want  my  breakfast  yet."  "This  ain't 
yoah  breakfast,  honey,"  she  replied,  as  she  came 
right  into  the  room,  in  spite  of  my  night  attire, 
"this  is  yoah  momin'  coffee.  Breakfast  won't  be 
served  till  ten  o'clock.  Go  back  to  yoah  bed 
again."    I  took  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  piece  of 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   187 

toast,  the  mammy  retired,  so  did  I,  back  to  bed 
again. 

It  was  my  first  experience  of  Creole  methods  of 
living  and  I  enjoyed  it  during  the  remainder  of 
my  stay  there. 

The  wonderful  processions  of  the  Knights  of 
Momus  and  other  Carnival  Societies  were  magnifi- 
cent exhibitions  of  sjmibolic  pageantry,  and 
Madame  Begue's  breakfasts,  and  the  daily  visits 
to  the  old  Absinthe  house  were  interesting  inci- 
dents of  my  first  sojourn  in  the  queen  city  of  the 
gulf. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  First  of  Many  Visits  to  Texas. 

From  New  Orleans  we  went  to  Texas.  The  rail- 
road to  Houston  had  not  been  completed  so  we 
went  from  Morgan  City  to  Galveston  by  steam- 
ship. 

It  was  my  first  visit  to  the  Lone  Star  State.  I 
had  heard  and  read  much  of  the  wildness  of  the 
life  there,  but  I  found  in  the  principal  cities  beau- 
tiful homes  of  cultured  people  full  of  hospitality, 
enterprising  and  progressive  business  men,  sub- 
stantial blocks  of  buildings,  fine  churches  and 
schools  and  an  abiding  faith  in  the  future  of  their 
state  that  time  has  fully  justified. 

In  the  smaller  towns  there  were  some  primitive 
conditions;  but  that  was  to  be  expected  in  a  com- 
paratively newly  settled  part  of  the  country  where 
adventurers  had  come  from  all  parts  of  the  world, 
where  distances  were  great  and  even  necessities 
difficult  to  obtain. 

The  theatres  were  not  elaborate;  in  faqt,  many 
of  them  were  simply  halls,  with  wooden  backed 
benches  and  very  little  scenery;  but  they  served 
the  purpose  and  our  audiences  came  to  see  the  act- 
ing of  the  plays  and  were  not  influenced  by  the  en- 
vironment. 

188 


Frederick  Warde  as  Prospero  in  "The  Tempest' 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    189' 

In  Galveston  we  found  the  Tremont  Theatre 
very  well  equipped;  but  in  Dallas  we  played  in  a 
long  room  over  a  newly  built  store  on  the  main* 
street.  It  was  approached  by  a  steep  stairway  on 
the  side.  Two  drygoods  cases  had  been  impro- 
vised on  the  curb  for  a  box  office,  and  there  Jake 
Moniger,  a  humpbacked  billposter,  sold  the  tick- 
ets. 

Jake  Moniger  was  a  privileged  character.  If 
anyone  demurred  at  the  location  of  his  seat,  Jake 
would  assail  them  with  a  volume  of  profanity  that 
would  do  credit  to  a  Missouri  mule-skinner  or  the 
mate  of  a  Mississippi  steamboat.  Jake's  eccen- 
tricities were  well  known  and  the  people  only 
laughed  at  his  vocal  explosions  that  would  have 
cost  another  man  his  life. 

There  were  no  dressing  rooms  in  the  Opera 
House.  We  dressed  in  our  rooms  in  the  Windsor 
Hotel,  crossed  on  a  diagonal  covered  bridge  to  the 
Exchange  Hotel  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street 
in  the  rear,  entered  a  back  room,  climbed  out  of  a 
window,  crossed  a  roof  and  entered  the  Opera 
House  by  another  window  that  opened  on  the  back 
of  the  stage.  When  a  change  of  dress  was  neces- 
sary we  had  to  make  a  return  round  trip  by  the 
same  route,  passing  through  a  double  line  of  col- 
ored chambermaids,  negro  porters  and  bell-boys, 
whose  characteristic  laughter  and  comments  on 
our  appearance  and  costume  were,  to  say  the  least, 
embarrassing. 

The  play  was  "Richelieu,"  and  Jake  Moniger *s 


190   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

picturesque  profanity  punctuated  Bulwer  Lytton's 
dramtic  poetry,  at  frequent  intervals. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  cities  in  Texas  was 
San  Antonio.  It  was  then  half  American  and  half 
Mexican,  many  of  the  houses  built  of  adobe.  The 
San  Antonio  river,  with  its  clear  crystal  water 
winding  through  the  town  between  palm  trees  and 
banana  bushes,  and  crossed  by  numerous  bridges. 
The  old  Alamo  church  standing  on  the  great 
Plaza,  then  falling  in  ruins,  and  now  happily  re- 
stored. The  ancient  Cathedral  and  the  old  mis- 
sions where  the  Jesuit  fathers  first  raised  the  al- 
tars of  Christianity  in  that  part  of  the  world.  It 
was  indeed  a  place  of  interest,  and  a  link  between 
the  old  world  and  the  new. 

Like  many  of  the  other  cities  in  that  great  state 
of  Texas,  San  Antonio  is  now  a  metropolis  with 
splendid  streets,  public  buildings,  hotels,  churches, 
theatres,  parks  and  gardens,  several  important 
newspapers  and  a  large  population  that  have  every 
reason  to  be  proud  of  the  result  of  their  own  en- 
terprise and  liberality. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write  we  played  an  entire 
week  in  the  Casino,  a  large  hall  built  by  a  German 
Society,  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  It  was  fairly 
well  equipped  with  scenery,  accommodated  a  large 
audience  and  we  taxed  its  capacity  at  every  per- 
formance. 

From  San  Antonio  to  Austin,  the  capital  of  the 
state. 

A  delegation  of  state  officials  met  us  on  our  way. 
ffhe  party  included  Governor  Hubbard,  Attorney- 


I  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   191 

General  Stilwell  H.  Russell  and  several  others, 
whose  names  and  rank  I  forget;  but  one  of  the  men 
I  distinctly  remember;  Ben  Thompson,  the  town 
marshal  of  Austin. 

Thompson  had  the  reputation  of  being  abso- 
lutely fearless.  It  was  said  that  he  had  killed  no 
less  than  seventeen  men  in  the  course  of  his  duty 
and  in  self-defence,  but  had  never  taken  a  life 
without  giving  his  adversary  a  chance. 

I  found  him  a  very  agreeable  man,  quiet  and 
courteous  but  always  alert.  He  never  spoke  of  his 
adventures  but  said  he  expected  to  die  a  sudden 
and  violent  death,  as  he  had  many  enemies  who 
would  not  hesitate  to  take  his  life  if  the  opportu- 
nity occurred.  It  did.  He  was  shot  to  death  some 
years  afterward  in  a  variety  theatre  in  San  An- 
tonio. 

On  the  Friday  night  of  our  engagement  in  Aus- 
tin, I  played  lago  to  the  Othello  of  Mr.  McCul- 
lough.  The  following  morning  I  was  informed 
that  I  had  had  a  narrow  escape  from  being  shot 
during  the  performance.  The  information  came 
from  the  editor  of  the  local  paper  who  sat  immedi- 
ately behind  the  man  referred  to  in  the  following 
incident,  and  who  prevented  the  casualty.  I  ap- 
pend in  part  the  account  as  it  appeared  in  the 
newspaper. 

"On  Friday  night  when  McCuUough  was  play- 
ing Othello  at  the  Opera  House  in  this  city,  a  coun- 
tryman became  terribly  excited  at  the  villainy  of 
lago,  as  portrayed  by  Mr.  F.  B.  Warde.  Towards 
the  close  of  the  play  he  drew  his  six-shooter  and 


192   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

declared  he  would  kill  the  d— n  scoundrel.  On  be- 
ing told  that  the  actor  was  only  impersonating  a 
character,  he  remarked,  *He  must  be  a  damned 
villain,  anyhow,  or  he  couldn't  act  it  so  well,  and 
if  he  didn't  stop  abusing  that  woman  (Emelia)  he 
would  shoot  him,  anyhow. '  We  congratulate  Mr. 
Warde  that  he  escaped  from  the  wrath  of  the 
Texan.  Although  not  intended  it  was  a  handsome 
compliment  to  his  genius  as  an  actor.  .  .  .  We  do 
not  wonder  at  the  indignation  of  the  man  who 
wanted  to  shoot  him  as  his  villainy  was  so  per- 
fectly correct  that  all  lost  sight  of  the  actor  and 
only  saw  the  desperate  cold-blooded  villain  before 
them." 

I  appreciated  the  compliment  the  countryman 
had  intended  to  convey  but  felt  grateful  to  the 
gentleman  who  fortunately  sat  behind  him  and 
prevented  the  expression  of  his  sentiments  with  his 
six-shooter. 

Mr.  McCullough's  tour  then  took  us  to  the  mid- 
dle west  with  continued  success,  and  closed  on 
May  1  at  Lexington,  Ky. 

At  the  termination  of  our  season  I  went  to  St. 
Louis  to  take  part  in  a  most  interesting  perform- 
ance at  Pope's  Theatre,  for  the  benefit  of  Mr. 
Charles  Pope,  the  manager. 

The  play  was  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  which  was 
made  the  vehicle  for  the  first  appearance  on  the 
stage  of  Miss  Ella  Sturgis,  daughter  of  General 
Sturgis  of  the  U.  S.  Army. 

Miss  Sturgis  was  a  beautiful  girl  and  made  a 
most  emphatic  success  in  the  part  of  Juliet.    I  rec- 


Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers  as  the  Ducliees  in  "Lady  Wiudsmere's 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   193 

ognized  her  ability,  had  rehearsed  and  instructed 
her  in  the  business  of  the  play,  but  was  more  than 
surprised  at  the  excellence  of  her  performance. 

I  took  the  part  of  Romeo,  and  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Adelaide  Neilson,  I  never  played  with  a 
Juliet  who  more  completely  filled  the  ideal  of  the 
part,  to  me. 

Miss  Sturgis  was  ambitious  to  adopt  the  stage  as 
a  profession;  family  reasons  and  influence  dis- 
suaded her,  but  in  my  judgment,  the  stage  lost  a 
brilliant  actress  by  her  decision. 

I  was  re-engaged  with  McCuUough  for  the  fol- 
lowing season,  which  began  at  Utica,  New  York, 
on  September  6.  The  principal  members  of  the 
company  remained  the  same  as  before  but  some 
changes  and  additions  were  made  among  the 
younger  element;  notably  Mr.  E.  H.  Sothern,  who 
made  his  first  appearance  with  us  and,  I  believe, 
his  first  appearance  on  the  stage,  under  the  name 
of  Edward  Dee.  He  played  the  parts  of  Lucius,  in 
Virginius,  Roderego  in  Othello,  the  King  of  France 
in  King  Lear,  Louis  the  Thirteenth  in  Richelieu, 
Lucius,  Brutus'  page,  in  Julius  Caesar,  and  others. 

Young  Sothern  was  an  attractive  youth,  cul- 
tured and  refined;  he  dressed  his  parts  with  artis- 
tic accuracy  and  played  them  with  sincerity  and 
intelligence.  He  was  a  general  favorite  with  the 
company,  was  familiarly  known  as  Eddie,  and  in 
spite  of  the  distinction  he  since  achieved,  he  was 
always  Eddie  Sothern  to  me. 

Our  second  week  was  spent  in  Detroit.  It  was 
State  Fair  week  and  we  played  at  the  Detroit 


194  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

opera  House  to  immense  crowds.  Lawrence  Bar- 
rett had  enjoyed  similar  prosperity  at  the  Whit- 
ney, the  site  of  which  is  now  covered  by  the  post 
office;  and  Saturday  afternoon  and  evening  that 
glorious  violin  virtuoso,  Remenyi,  had  given  con- 
certs in  one  of  the  public  halls  of  Detroit. 

By  a  happy  coincidence  Mr.  Barrett,  Mr.  Mc- 
CuUough  and  Remenyi  were  all  resting  over  Sun- 
day in  the  city— an  unusual  circumstance,  because 
generally  we  had  to  travel  on  Sundays.  John  Mc- 
CuUough  and  Remenyi  were  old  friends,  while 
Mr.  Barrett  and  McCullough  had  been  for  several 
seasons  associated  in  the  management  of  the  Cal- 
ifornia theatre  in  San  Francisco.  The  presence  of 
three  such  artists  in  the  same  city  and  in  the  same 
house  at  the  same  time  was  an  uncommon  circum- 
stance. 

At  that  time  Mr.  Barrett's  leading  lady  was  Miss 
Marie  Wainwright;  Louis  James  was  his  principal 
male  support.  Miss  Kate  Forsyth  and  myself 
held  the  like  positions  in  Mr.  McCullough 's  com- 
pany. A  strong  feeling  of  camaraderie  existed  be- 
tween the  members  of  both  organizations,  and  the 
rivalry  of  the  tragedians  was  marked  by  the  ut- 
most good  fellowship.  McCullough  invited  Bar- 
rett and  Remenyi  to  a  small  social  gathering  that 
Sunday  evening  in  one  of  the  parlors  of  the  Rus- 
sell House,  which  he  had  pre-empted  for  the  occa- 
sion. Included  also  in  the  invitations  were  Miss 
Wainwright,  Mr.  James  and  other  members  of 
Mr.  Barrett's  company,  Miss  Forsyth,  John  A. 
Lane  and  myself  of  his  own  company,  George 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    195 

Goodale  and  one  or  two  resident  friends.  The  en- 
tire party  did  not  exceed  fifteen  or  sixteen  per- 
sons. 

It  was  a  delightful  evening.  Everybody  strove 
to  please,  or  to  entertain  with  story,  anecdote  or 
recitation.  Remenyi  had  brought  his  violin, 
probably  his  most  cherished  possession— a  genu- 
ine and  fabulously  valuable  Strad.  There  it  lay 
on  a  chair  at  one  side  of  the  room  in  its  worn  old 
case,  apparently  forgotten;  but  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  eyes  of  the  master  were  never  really  off  it. 
Remnyi  laughed  at  the  stories,  applauded  the  reci- 
tations and  otherwise  signified  his  pleasure  in  our 
proceedings.  We  did  not  ask  him  to  play,  nor  did 
he  offer  to  do  so  until  late  in  the  evening.  Then, 
during  a  pause  in  the  entertainment,  and  without 
suggestion  from  us,  he  quietly  rose  from  his  seat, 
walked  over  to  his  violin  case,  opened  it  carefully, 
and,  unwrapping  the  instrument  from  a  soft  silk 
handkerchief,  took  a  position  in  the  centre  of  the 
room  and  began  to  tune  the  strings. 

We  watched  him  in  eager  expectancy,  for  his 
movements  were  very  slow  and  deliberate.  When 
satisfied  that  his  strings  were  at  their  proper  ten- 
sion, he  adjusted  the  old  handkerchief  under  his 
cheek,  the  violin  resting  against  it,  and  began. 

At  first  he  gave  several  Hungarian  melodies, 
then  the  national  hymn  of  his  country,  and,  follow- 
ing our  applause,  Down  Upon  the  Suwanee  River, 
Annie  Laurie,  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer,  and 
Home,  Sweet  Home.  Of  course  his  playing  moved 
us  to  other  and  louder  demonstrations,  but  in  com- 


196  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

parison  with  what  we  had  heard  they  were  discord- 
ant—seemed painfully  out  of  place  and  of  course 
utterly  inadequate  as  expressions  of  our  real  feel- 
ings. Silence,  and  the  tears  that  stood  in  our 
eyes,  were  the  later  and  better  tribute  we  paid. 

Finally,  Remenyi  said,  in  that  delightfully  char- 
acteristic accent  that  gave  quaintness  to  his  per- 
sonality: **I  will  play  for  you  a  piece  of  my  own. 
It  has  no  name.  I  took  it  from  a  verse  of  the 
Scriptures— 'And  our  Saviour  went  out  into  the 
garden  and  wept,  0,  such  bitter  tears.'  " 

Again  he  played.  I  think  I  have  never  heard 
such  melody  in  any  other  place  or  time.  It  did 
not  seem  possible  that  such  strains  could  proceed 
from  any  agency  guided  by  human  hands.  I 
could  see  our  Saviour  in  Gethsemane.  I  could 
feel  His  sorrow.  I  could  see  the  tears  of  anguish 
upon  His  cheeks.  The  eyes  of  the  player  were 
closed,  and  he  seemed  unconscious  of  his  en- 
vironment, until  the  last  note  died  away  like  a 
sigh  of  the  wind.  Then,  without  a  word,  Remenyi 
gently  wound  the  old  handkerchief  round  the  vio- 
lin, replaced  it  carefully  in  its  case,  and  put  the 
bow  in  the  cover. 

The  first  sound  following  that  impressive  and 
solemn  stillness  was  the  click  of  the  hasp  as  he 
closed  the  case. 

Instantly  the  company  seemed  to  wake  as  from 
a  spell.  When  we  were  come  to  earth  again,  with 
a  silent  pressure  of  the  hand,  or  in  subdued  voices, 
we  tried  to  express  some  measure  of  our  apprecia- 
tion of  the  genius  that  had  so  bound  us— to  convey 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    197 

some  faint  sense  of  our  obligation  to  one  whose 
soul  had  gone  out  to  us  on  the  strings  of  his  be- 
loved instrument. 

We  separated  with  good  wishes  and  gentle 
thoughts.  Some  appreciable  sign  of  them  still  is 
visible  over  the  far  horizon  that  separates  the  ex- 
perience of  that  unforgotten  evening  from  the 
practicality  of  the  hard  present. 

Of  the  coterie  that  met  in  Detroit  on  that  Sun- 
day night  nine-and-thirty  years  ago,  only  one  or 
two  remain.  Remenyi  died  upon  the  stage  of  a 
San  Francisco  theatre,  his  violin  clasped  in  his 
arms.  John  McCuUough— great-hearted,  lovable 
John— found  peace  after  a  pitiful  few  years  of 
madness.  Lawrence  Barrett  passed  away  in  the 
plenitude  of  power,  full  of  honors  and  while  his 
career  was  at  its  noblest.  Louis  James,  in  far 
Montana,  died  like  a  soldier  at  his  post.  John 
Lane,  as  cultured  a  gentleman  as  he  was  a  genial 
friend,  closed  his  pilgrimage  in  Philadelphia  only 
a  little  while  ago  in  honorable  retirement.  Beau- 
tiful Kate  Forsyth  is  only  a  memory  in  our  hearts. 

The  incidents  of  that  evening  at  Detroit's  well 
remembered  Russell  House  are  vivid  facts  with 
me.  The  faces  of  old  comrades  and  friends,  their 
smiles,  their  jests,  their  big  hearts  and  their  child- 
like democracy  of  manner— the  utter  absence  of 
cant,  assumption  and  "airs,"  endear  them  to  me 
enduringly  in  spite  of  other  interests  and  needs. 
Looming  large  in  the  group  is  the  figure  of  the  old 
Hungarian  genius.  I  hear  his  broken  accents;  I 
see  him  raise  that  precious  instrument  to  his  chin, 


198  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

and  on  the  soft  breath  of  memory  is  borne  to  me 
again  the  music  his  soul  evolved  from  the  simple 
words: 

**And  our  Saviour  went  out  into  the  garden  and 
wept,  0,  such  bitter  tears." 

I  think  Marie  Wainwright  and  myself  are  the 
only  survivors  of  that  gathering,  which  included 
Harry  Barton,  Edmund  K.  Collier  and  Augusta 
Foster. 

The  Lady  of  Lyons  was  one  of  our  matinee 
plays,  with  John  McCuUough  in  the  romantic  role 
of  Claude  Melnotte. 

From  every  point  of  view  John  was  unsuited  to 
the  part,  and  he  knew  it;  but  he  played  it  at  inter- 
vals and  it  drew  well. 

Neither  Ned  Collier  nor  myself  were  in  the  cast, 
but  in  the  characteristic  fashion  of  actors  out  of 
the  bill  we  would  wander  to  the  theatre,  either  to 
the  front  or  behind  the  scenes  for  at  least  a  few 
minutes  at  every  performance. 

It  was  in  Milwaukee,  Ned  and  I  were  idly  stroll- 
ing the  street,  when  we  passed  a  confectionery 
store.  In  the  window  were  a  number  of  cakes  cov- 
ered with  white  icing,  and  a  notice  reading:  "Any 
inscription  made  on  these  cakes  to  suit  the  pur- 
chaser." We  bought  a  cake  and  had  it  inscribed: 
**You  take  it,  John,"  had  it  packed  in  a  very  at- 
tractive box,  and  wended  our  way  to  McCullough's 
dressing  room  in  Nunemacher's  Grand  Opera 
House. 

John  was  changing  his  dress  when  we  entered. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   199 

He  greeted  us  cordially  and  inquired  what  we  had 
been  purchasing. 

After  an  assumption  of  embarrassment,  I  said: 
Ned  Collier  and  I  had  received  much  consideration 
and  many  kindnesses  from  him  and  we  wished  to 
make  a  slight  acknowledgment,  handed  him  the 
box  and  prudently  backed  near  to  the  door. 

I  felt  some  remorse  as  John  feelingly  deprecated 
any  generosity,  but  he  opened  the  box— and  then 
we  flew!  Boots  and  other  reachable  articles  fol- 
lowed us  down  the  stairs  to  the  accompaniment  of 
several  emphatic  but  uncomplimentary  remarks  as 
we  rapidly  made  our  exit,  realizing  the  truth  of 
old  Jack  Falstaff's  philosophy:— "The  better  part 
of  valor  is  discretion." 

John  McCuUough  was  a  good  sportsman  and 
took  our  jest  good-naturedly;  but  at  night  we 
found  a  notice  posted  on  the  callboard  by  the  man- 
agement, to  the  effect  that  members  of  the  com- 
pany out  of  the  bill  were  not  to  be  allowed  in  the 
theatre  during  the  performances. 

We  played  all  of  the  large  cities  in  the  east,  ex- 
cept Boston,  then  in  the  middle  west  and  revisited 
the  south  and  Texas. 

The  feature  of  the  season  was  a  four  weeks'  en- 
gagement at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  New 
York,  where  McCuUough  received  the  complete  in- 
dorsement of  the  metropolitan  press,  which  had 
hitherto  been  denied  him,  as  well  as  the  enthusias- 
tic acknowledgment  of  the  audiences. 

We  closed  our  season  earlier  than  usual,  as  Mc- 
CuUough had  made  arrangements  to  appear  at 


200   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Dniry  Lane  Theatre  in  London.  I  had  been  en- 
gaged to  accompany  and  support  him,  but  at  the 
last  minute  Augustus  Harris,  the  manager  of  the 
London  Theatre,  decided  to  play  the  opposite  parts 
and  I  accepted  the  situation. 

I  had  almost  forgotten  a  by  no  means  unimpor- 
tant member  of  the  company,  Robert  Pritchard, 
familiarly  known  as  Bob,  Mr.  McCullough's  body 
servant  and  dresser. 

Bob  was  an  Irishman,  short  of  stature  but  strong 
as  an  ox.  He  could  take  up  a  ladder  in  a  pair  of 
silk  tights,  make  a  Roman  armor  or  rivet  a  boiler 
with  squal  skill.  He  stood  in  wholesome  awe,  but 
was  devoted  to  **The  Goov'nor,"  as  he  always 
called  Mr.  McCullough. 

Bob  was  very  popular  with  the  members  of  the 
company  to  whom  he  was  always  ready  to  render 
any  assistance;  but  his  bete  noir  was  the  mana- 
ger, who  reviewed  his  expense  accounts  and  cut 
down  his  charges  for  alcohol. 

The  amount  of  this  fluid  that  Bob  claimed  he 
used  weekly  for  the  lamp  to  heat  his  curling  tongs 
for  the  "Goov'nor's"  hair  would  have  been  suffi- 
cient to  provide  a  steady  flame  for  a  month. 

Bob  occasionally  appeared  on  the  stage.  In 
Macbeth,  there  are  a  number  of  small  parts,  offi- 
cers and  servants  who  speak  one  or  two  lines. 
Bob  was  cast  for  a  messenger  who  brings  Macbeth 
the  news  of  the  approach  of  the  English  army. 
He  enters  rapidly,  expressing  fear  and  excitement. 
Macbeth  angrily  asks:  "Where  got'st  thou  that 
goose  look?"    The  messenger  replies:    "There  is 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   201 

ten  thousand."  "Geese,  villain?"  asks  Macbeth, 
to  which  he  should  answer:  "Soldiers,  sir,"  but 
Bob  was  very  nervous  and  when  McOuUough  an- 
grily asked  the  question:  "Geese,  villain?"  Bob 
promptly  answered,  "Yes,  Sor!" 

I  don't  know  what  became  of  Bob  after  McCul- 
lough's  death.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  he  was 
working  in  a  trench  on  Broadway,  New  York,  ap- 
parently repairing  the  pipes  that  always  seem  to 
be  in  need  of  attention  on  that  busy  thoroughfare. 

Looking  back  over  the  two  years  I  spent  with 
John  McCullough,  I  cannot  but  marvel  at  his 
achievements  in  spite  of  his  early  privations  and 
lack  of  mental  cultivation.  A  man  of  little  or  no 
education  or  capacity  for  character  analysis,  he 
played  the  great  parts  of  Shakespeare,  Knowles 
and  Ljrtton  v/ith  wonderful  effectiveness. 

His  Virginius,  Spartacus  and  Othello  were  re- 
flections of  the  elements  of  his  own  nature,  and  the 
portrayal  of  their  various  degrees  of  suffering 
made  a  direct  appeal  to  his  own  straightforward 
manly  instinct.  The  same  may  be  said  of  some 
parts  of  his  King  Lear;  but  the  subtlety  of  Riche- 
lieu and  the  philosophic  reflections  of  Hamlet  were 
beyond  him;  yet  he  played  Richelieu  and  Hamlet 
with  a  dramatic  effect  that  more  than  satisfled  an 
average  audience. 

His  intimate  friends  were  men  of  broad  culture, 
literary  eminence  and  public  prominence  who  re- 
ceived and  treated  him  with  both  deference  and 
honor  and  deemed  it  but  a  fitting  tribute  to  his 
worth  and  merit. 


202   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

I  regarded  him  with  great  affection  and  cherish 
his  memory  as  that  of  a  sincere  friend,  an  excellent 
actor  and  an  honor  to  the  profession  that  he  so 
conspicuously  adorned. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

First  Experience  as  a  **Star.'* 

Mr.  James  A.  Heme  had  made  an  adaptation  of 
an  old  English  play,  "The  Mariner's  Compass," 
and  called  it  "Hearts  of  Oak,"  playing  it  with 
considerable  success  in  the  eastern  cities. 

Mr.  David  Dalzell,  who  was  the  husband  of  Miss 
Dickie  Lingard,  prepared  another  version  of  the 
same  play  and  called  it  "Oaken  Hearts." 

I  was  engaged  to  play  the  leading  part,  Mark 
Dawson.  We  opened  at  Pope's  Theatre,  St. 
Louis,  early  in  May.  During  the  week  Mr.  Heme, 
through  his  manager,  Mr.  Bert,  sought  an  injunc- 
tion restraining  our  production  of  the  play.  Miss 
Lingard,  Mr.  Dalzell,  Mr.  Frank  Pierce  and  myself 
were  summoned  as  witnesses  in  the  case.  It  was 
practically  proved  at  the  first  hearing  that  "The 
Mariner's  Compass,"  under  existing  laws,  was 
common  property  in  this  country,  but  the  case  was 
adjourned  to  the  following  week  for  a  further 
hearing.  The  witnesses  were  ordered  by  the  court 
to  appear  at  the  adjournment,  but  were  privately 
told  by  the  attorneys  that  there  would  probably  be 
no  further  proceedings;  so  upon  the  conclusion  of 
our  engagement  in  St.  Louis,  the  company  went  to 
Chicago  and  opened  at  Hooley's  Theatre. 

203 


204   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

During  the  week  Frank  Pierce  and  I  were  ar- 
rested by  a  United  States  marshal  and  taken  back 
to  St.  Louis  to  answer  to  a  charge  of  contempt  of 
court. 

The  marshal  was  a  good  natured  fellow  and  did 
not  submit  us  to  any  indignity,  but  it  was  a  very 
embarrassing  position;  however,  on  appearing  be- 
fore the  judge  the  following  morning,  we  explained 
the  circumstances,  apologized  for  any  disrespect, 
and  were  released. 

No  further  legal  proceedings  were  taken,  the 
play  not  proving  worth  an  expensive  legal  battle. 
"Hearts  of  Oak"  continued  a  success  for  Mr. 
Heme,  but  "Oaken  Hearts"  ceased  to  exist  as  a 
dramatic  attraction. 

On  returning  to  New  York  I  played  lago  to  the 
Othello  of  Mr.  William  Stafford,  for  a  week  at  the 
Windsor  Theatre  on  the  Bowery.  Mr.  Stafford 
was  a  young  man  with  a  worthy  ambition,  but  like 
Macbeth's,  it  o'erleapt  itself  and  fell  on  the  "other 
side."  Miss  Anna  Boyle,  a  very  promising  young 
actress,  was  the  Desdemona  of  the  occasion. 

At  this  time  Mr.  John  J.  Collins,  our  stage  man- 
ager, with  Mr.  McCullough,  made  a  proposal  to  an- 
nounce me  as  a  star  attraction  in  a  repertoire  of 
Shakespearean  and  classic  plays.  After  fourteen 
years'  active  experience,  conscientious  study  and 
considerable  success  in  many  of  the  characters,  he 
proposed  that  I  should  play.  I  felt  justified  in  ac- 
cepting the  proposition. 

Our  contract  was  made  for  three  years.  The 
plays  were  to  be  selected  by  mutual  agreement  and 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   205 

Mr.  Collins  was  to  provide  an  efficient  company 
and  equipment.  It  was  also  arranged  that  I 
should  hereafter  be  advertised  as  "Frederick 
Warde,"  omitting  B,  the  initial  letter  of  my  moth- 
er's maiden  name  of  Barkham  that  I  had  used 
hitherto. 

It  was  an  important  period  in  my  career  and  a 
hazardous  undertaking,  too,  as  I  fully  realized. 

I  spent  the  summer  in  preparation  and  study. 

Henry  Aveling,  a  young  English  actor  who  came 
to  this  country  with  Daniel  Bandmann,  was  en- 
gaged as  leading  man,  Miss  Florence  Elmore  as 
leading  lady.  The  company  also  included  Leon- 
ard Outram,  L.  F.  Rand,  James  Curran,  W.  S. 
Marion,  0.  W.  Blake  and  Miss  Marian  Clifton,  all 
capable  and  experienced  actors.  Counting  our 
subordinate  members,  the  company  numbered 
twenty-one  in  all. 

We  selected  an  extensive  repertoire,  including 
Hamlet,  Othello,  Richard  III,  Merchant  of  Venice, 
Macbeth,  Romeo  and  Juliet  and  The  Lady  of 
Lyons,  afterward  adding  Virginius  and  Damon 
and  Pythias,  and  later  Richelieu. 

We  began  our  season  on  Friday,  Sept.  2,  1881, 
at  Moberly,  Mo.,  opening  the  new  Carmody  Opera 
House,  playing  two  nights  and  a  matinee,  as  a  pre- 
liminary try-out. 

We  gave  Hamlet  the  first  night.  The  Lady  of 
Lyons  for  the  matinee  and  Richard  III  the  second 
night. 

I  vividly  recall  my  feelings  on  that  eventful 
Friday  night.    Moberly  was  not  an  important 


206   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

dramatic  centre,  nor  did  I  expect  any  analytical 
criticism  from  the  audience;  but  it  was  my  first  ap- 
pearance in  the  character  of  Hamlet,  my  first 
appearance  as  a  star,  with  a  company  entirely  new 
and  strange  to  me,  and  the  opening  of  a  new  the- 
atre. 

I  realized  that  not  only  my  personal  future 
largely  depended  on  the  success  of  the  perform- 
ance, but  that  the  success  of  the  enterprise  de- 
pended on  me.  I  felt  the  responsibility  of  the  di- 
rection of  the  play  and  the  company.  I  had 
learned  obedience  to  authority  and  discipline,  but 
it  was  a  new  experience  to  take  command  myself. 

I  went  to  the  theatre  early,  dressed  leisurely 
and  walked  about  to  accustom  myself  to  my  cos- 
tume, which  was  new.  I  was  speedily  bathed  in 
perspiration,  for  it  was  an  abnormally  hot  night. 
Then  sat  in  my  dressing  room  and  waited,  solac- 
ing myself  with  the  actor's  philosophy,  "Twelve 
o'clock  must  come." 

An  address  by  a  local  politician  preceded  the 
performance.  The  gentleman  eulogized  every- 
thing and  everyone  connected  with  the  theatre,  in- 
cluding the  owner,  the  architect,  the  builder,  the 
painter,  the  gasfitter  and  myself,  in  a  lengthy  dis- 
course that  made  Hamlet's  soliloquy  seem  like  a 
casual  remark;  and  then  the  play  began. 

Hamlet  does  not  appear  until  the  second  scenfe 
of  the  play  and  does  not  speak  until  after  the  King 
has  given  Laertes  leave  to  return  to  France. 

Most  of  the  Hamlets  I  have  known  made  their 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   207 

entrance  on  the  scene  at  this  point,  thus  securing 
recognition  and  a  reception  from  the  audience. 

I  preferred  to  be  discovered  at  the  opening  of 
the  scene  when  the  King,  Queen  and  the  full  court 
are  assembled  and  disclosed.  I  took  a  position 
standing  by  a  window  apparently  gazing  into  va- 
cancy and  remained  there  till  I  was  personally  ad- 
dressed by  the  King.  The  result  was,  I  was  not 
recognized  by  the  audience  till  I  advanced  and 
spoke  my  first  line:  **A  little  more  than  kin,  and 
less  than  kind." 

A  splendid  greeting  was  then  given  me,  and,  en- 
couraged by  the  hearty  welcome,  I  proceeded  with 
greater  confidence  and  by  the  time  I  reached  the 
first  soliloquy,  beginning:  "Oh,  that  this  too,  too 
solid  flesh  would  melt!"  I  was  master  of  myself. 

All  went  well  until  my  first  scene  with  the  Ghost, 
where  Horatio  and  the  soldiers  endeavor  to  re- 
strain the  prince  from  following  the  spirit.  Ham- 
let breaks  from  the  grasp  of  his  friends  and  draw- 
ing his  sword,  exclaims:  "By  heaven,  I'll  make  a 
ghost  of  him  that  lets  me. ' '  But  my  sword  got  en- 
tangled in  the  hanger  and  refused  to  draw;  in 
spite  of  every  effort  it  stuck  in  the  scabbard,  and 
there  I  had  to  leave  it. 

Nothing  more  of  moment  occurred  to  mar  the 
success  of  the  play,  which  was  admirably  acted  by 
the  company  and  received  with  much  enthusiasm 
by  the  audience. 

Congratulations  and  good  wishes  from  friends, 
prophecies  of  a  successful  season,  a  little  supper,  a 


208  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

tired  body  but  a  happy  heart,  sanguine  with  hope, 
and  the  night  was  over. 

The  two  performances  on  Saturday  went  off  sat- 
isfactorily and  served  to  demonstrate  the  excel- 
lence of  our  company  and  their  ability  to  do  jus- 
tice to  our  extensive  repertoire. 

The  performances  in  Moberly  had  been  in  the 
nature  of  a  preliminary  episode  to  enable  the  com- 
pany and  myself  to  get  acquainted  with  each  oth- 
er's personality  and  methods.  The  regular  open- 
ing of  the  season  was  an  engagement  at  Pope*s 
Theatre,  St.  Louis,  for  the  following  week. 

Hamlet  was  our  first  bill,  followed  by  Othello, 
Merchant  of  Venice,  Richard  III,  Romeo  and 
Juliet  and  Macbeth. 

I  was  no  stranger  in  St.  Louis,  and  I  received,  as 
I  had  anticipated,  a  most  cordial  welcome. 

The  weather  was  intensely  hot.  Our  business 
suffered  in  consequence  but  the  week  as  a  whole 
was  satisfactory. 

The  following  extract  from  the  weekly  review  of 
dramatic  events  in  the  Sunday  edition  of  the  St. 
Louis  Republican  of  Sept.  11,  aptly  describes  the 
conditions  under  which  the  engagement  was 
played,  and  records  the  general  verdict  of  the  au- 
diences: 

"The  meteorological  conditions  were  of  a  character 
to  point  out  infallibly  who  are  the  best  friends  of  dra- 
matic art  in  our  city.  The  weather — all  week — ^was  so 
insufferably  hot  that  nobody  could  think  of  going  to 
the  theatre  for  mere  amusement.    Warde's  audiences 


/'t.^ 


Louis  James 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   209 

went  through  the  test  of  fire  and  made  their  record  as 
the  best  friends  of  the  drama.  Many  of  its  cool  weather 
patrons  had  not  returned  from  their  summer  wander- 
ings; but  notwithstanding  this  melting  and  thinning 
process  Warde's  audiences  were  good — better,  much 
better  than  even  he  or  the  management  could  have  ex- 
pected. In  the  nature  of  the  case  they  represented  the 
very  best  dramatic  culture  and  critical  taste,  and  their 
verdict  is  substantial.  There  was  no  claque  or  clap- 
trap about  it,  and  it  may  as  well  be  said  now  that  it 
pronounced  emphatically  both  an  artistic  and  popular 
success  for  Frederick  Warde.  Under  all  the  disadvan- 
tages attendant  upon  beginning,  together  with  the 
drawbacks  already  noted,  the  actor  commanded  atten- 
tion and  forced  his  way  to  public  recognition  and  in- 
dorsement. This  is  glory  enough  for  the  initial  engage^ 
ment  of  his  season,  and  it  will  shine  before  him  and 
illuminate  his  pathway  wherever  he  goes.  .  .  .  And 
thus  Frederick  Warde  has  come  to  the  legitimate  drama 
triumphantly,  and  in  his  coming  there  is  a  wealth  of 
promise  and  the  bright  star  of  hope." 

On  the  Sunday  evening  following  my  engage- 
ment, I  was  by  special  dispensation,  initiated  into 
St.  Louis  Lodge,  No.  9,  of  the  Benevolent  and  Pro- 
tective Order  of  Elks,  of  which  lodge  I  have  ever 
since  been  a  member. 

John  W.  Norton,  manager  of  the  Grand  Opera 
House,  and  a  very  popular  actor  who  had  sup- 
ported Mary  Anderson  for  some  seasons,  was  the 
Exalted  Ruler  and  presided  at  the  ceremonies, 
which  were  beautiful  and  impressive. 


210   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

There  were  then  only  fourteen  lodges  in  the  or- 
der with  a  limited  membership.  Today  there  are 
more  than  a  thousand  lodges  in  the  country  and  a 
membership  of  more  than  six  hundred  thousand. 
Then,  I  was  No.  118  on  the  roster;  now  I  am  No. 
3  in  point  of  seniority  in  my  lodge  in  St.  Louis. 

On  leaving  St.  Louis,  we  began  a  tour  that  took 
us  to  the  west,  the  southwest  and  to  Texas,  where 
I  v/as  most  cordially  received  and  liberally  pa- 
tronized. Returning  through  the  southern  coun- 
try, I  again  experienced  the  native  proverbial  gen- 
erosity and  practical  appreciation,  especially  in 
Nashville  and  Memphis.  Then,  to  the  middle 
west,  closing  our  season  at  Joliet,  111.,  on  April 
14,  1882. 

The  result  of  our  first  season  was:— Thirty-two 
consecutive  weeks  of  extended  travel  with  the  loss 
of  only  one  night,  Sept.  20,  on  which  we  closed 
the  theatre  out  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  Presi- 
dent Garfield,  who  had  died  the  night  before. 

V/e  had  played  an  extensive  repertoire  of  classic 
plays  to  fair  audiences  who  had  given  us  the  warm- 
est encouragement.  The  press  had  unequivocally 
recognized  my  claims  to  stellar  prominence.  We 
had  booked  a  complete  tour  for  the  following  sea- 
son that  included  dates  in  almost  all  of  the  towns 
we  had  already  visited,  and  had  secured  time  in 
many  of  the  large  cities.  Even  though  Mr.  Col- 
lins and  I  had  not  made  a  fortune,  we  were  happy 
and  content. 

A  party  of  friends,  including  0.  W.  Ruggles,  of 
the  Erie  Railroad,  Mr.  Hamlin,  of  the  Grand  Opera 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   211 

House,  Chicago,  and  David  Dalzell  of  the  "News 
Letter,"  had  eome  from  Chicago  to  congratulate 
us  on  the  successful  result  of  the  season,  and  to- 
gether with  the  principal  members  of  the  com- 
pany, who  had  been  re-engaged  for  the  next  sea- 
son, we  enjoyed  a  farewell  supper  and  parted  for 
the  summer  vacation. 

A  pleasant  but  somewhat  embarrassing  incident 
occurred  on  my  arrival  in  the  afternoon.  Mike 
Moran,  who  had  formerly  been  John  McCul- 
lough's  boss  in  the  gas  works  at  Philadelphia,  was 
now  an  Alderman  of  the  city  of  Joliet.  He  de- 
sired to  show  his  regard  to  the  man  who  had  sup- 
ported his  friend  on  the  stage,  and  he  had  engaged 
an  open  carriage  and  a  full  brass  band  to  meet  me. 

On  my  arrival  at  the  depot,  I  was  conducted  ta 
the  carriage  and  escorted  by  the  band,  in  bright 
red  uniforms,  to  the  hotel  to  the  accompaniment  of 
national  airs  and  the  cheers  of  the  omnipresent 
small  boys  of  the  street. 

Good  old  Mike  Moran,  who  rode  by  my  side,  was 
a  proud  and  happy  man,  but  while  I  appreciated 
his  tribute  of  regard,  I  did  not  share  his  enthusi- 
asm. 

A  well  earned  vacation  followed,  interrupted 
only  by  a  week's  engagement  at  the  Park  Theatre, 
Boston,  playing  Julian  Gray,  to  the  Mercy  Mer- 
rick of  Clara  Morris  in  "The  New  Magdalen."  It 
was  my  first  appearance  in  Boston,  and  I  had 
every  reason  to  be  proud  of  my  reception  by  the 
public  and  the  press. 

Two  more  seasons  followed  under  Mr.  Collins, 


212   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

covering  practically  the  same  route  as  the  first, 
but  playing  in  some  of  the  larger  cities,  with  vary- 
ing fortune. 

Some  changes  occurred  in  the  company,  notably 
Miss  Anna  Boyle  was  the  leading  lady,  and  Mr. 
John  Malone  replaced  Mr.  Aveling  as  the  leading 
man. 

We  played  the  same  repertoire  strongly  featur- 
ing Virginius,  in  which  character  I  had  been  very 
successful,  and  adding  Shakespeare's  Julius  Cae- 
sar, and  John  Howard  Payne's  tragedy  Brutus,  or 
"The  Fall  of  Tarquin." 

Sedalia,  Missouri,  at  the  time  of  which  I  write, 
was  a  small  town,  its  population  composed  almost 
entirely  of  railroad  employees  and  their  families, 
it  being  an  important  division  point. 

The  alleged  "Opera  House"  at  Sedalia  was  a 
long,  narrow  hall  upstairs  and  over  two  stores  fac- 
ing the  railroad  station. 

It  had  a  gallery  at  one  end  and  a  small  stage  at 
the  other.  The  triangles  formed  by  the  prosce- 
nium were  the  only  dressing  rooms. 

The  audience  was  a  comparatively  large  one  and 
the  play  of  Virginius,  with  its  intense  human  sym- 
pathy and  admirable  construction,  interested  them 
greatly. 

It  may  be  recalled  that  Virginia,  daughter  of 
Virginius,  is  claimed  and  seized  by  Vibulanus  as  a 
slave.  The  claim  is  contested  by  Virginius  with 
all  the  indignation  of  an  outraged  father,  and  the 
cause  is  brought  before  Appius  Claudius  as  chief 
Decemvir  for  trial.    The  unjust  judge  decides 


Louis  James  as  Falstaff 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   213 

against  the  father  and  orders  the  girl  to  be  given 
into  the  possession  of  Vibulanus.  As  this  decision 
means  the  dishonor  of  his  daughter,  Virginius 
seizes  a  whittle  from  a  butcher's  stall  and  stabs  his 
daughter  to  death  before  the  assembled  multitude. 
He  afterward  strangles  Appius  Claudius  to  death 
and  dies  himself  from  grief  and  the  excitement  of 
the  terrible  tragedy;  but,  Vibulanus,  the  subordi- 
nate villain  of  the  story  is  not  disposed  of  by  the 
dramatist  and  the  play  concludes  with  the  death  of 
Virginius. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  play  in  Sedalia  the  audi- 
ence remained  in  their  seats  while  I  and  the  other 
actors  in  the  mimic  tragedy  went  to  our  dressing 
rooms  to  remove  our  make-up  and  transform  our- 
selves from  ancient  Romans  to  modem  American 
citizens. 

I  had  removed  my  toga,  tunic  and  upper  gar- 
ments and  was  busily  engaged  with  soap,  water 
and  towel  when  a  knock  came  to  my  dressing  room 
door.  I  inquired,  "Who's  there?"  A  voice  re- 
plied, "Me  the  manager."  "What's  the  trouble?" 
I  asked.  "The  people  won't  go  out,"  he  replied. 
"I  am  sorry,"  I  said,  "but  the  play  is  ended,"  and 
suggested  that  he  put  out  the  footlights  to  indi- 
cate that  the  entertainment  was  concluded,  and 
continued  my  ablutions. 

A  few  moments  later  he  came  again  to  my  door, 
saying,  "I  turned  out  the  lights  but  they  won't 
move.  What  shall  I  do?"  "Go  in  front  of  the 
curtain  and  tell  them  the  performance  is  over,"  I 


214   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

suggested.  "I  wouldn't  go  in  front  of  that  cur- 
tain for  a  hundred  dollars,"  he  protested. 

The  novelty  and  humor  of  the  situation  then  ap- 
pealed to  me,  and  I  volunteered:  "Wait  a  minute 
and  I'll  go  and  tell  them  myself." 

I  still  had  on  my  fleshling  tights  and  Roman 
sandals,  so  I  put  a  bath  towel  round  my  neck  and 
enveloped  myself  in  a  long  Ulster  overcoat.  My 
face  being  ruddy  with  the  recent  friction  of  the 
towel  and  my  hair  gloriously  dishevelled  from  the 
same  cause,  my  general  appearance  must  have  in- 
dicated Puek  grown  up  and  in  winter  clothes. 

I  stepped  before  the  curtain  still  impressed  with 
the  humor  of  the  occasion,  and  addressed  the  audi- 
ence: "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  play  is  over.  I 
am  dead,  Virginia  is  dead,  Dentatus  is  dead,  Ap- 

pius  Claudius  is  dead "  when  a  voice  from  the 

back  part  of  the  gallery  exclaimed  in  clear,  bell- 
like tones  that  reached  every  corner  of  the  build- 
ing: *  'What  have  you  done  with  that  other  son  of 
a  gun?" 

I  disappeared  and  the  audience  dispersed. 

It  was  at  Topeka,  Kansas;  I  had  played  Brutus 
in  Julius  Caesar.  Archibald  Forbes,  the  celebrated 
English  war  correspondent,  had  lectured  on  a 
local  lyceum  course  the  same  evening.  After  his 
lecture  he  came  to  the  Opera  House  and  witnessed 
the  two  last  acts  of  the  play.  After  the  perform- 
ance we  enjoyed  a  cigar  and  an  hour's  chat  in  my 
room  at  the  hotel. 

The  costumes  worn  by  our  Roman  soldiers  in  the 
play  were  a  compromise  between  the  ancient  and 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   215 

medieval,  and  consisted  of  brown  leggings,  a  tunic 
and  a  cape  with  a  hood  covering  the  head.  The  en- 
tire dress  was  liberally  ornamented  with  metal 
concaves.  The  dress  was  effective  and  serviceable 
if  not  archseologically  correct. 

During  our  discussion  of  the  play  and  its  cos- 
tuming, Forbes  said  to  me,  in  the  peculiar  English 
drawl,  characteristic  of  his  speech:  **Warde,  you 
gave  me  some  information  tonight  that  has  hith- 
erto escaped  me.  I  knew  the  Romans  had  ex- 
tended their  conquests  to  Gaul  and  Britain,  but  I 
did  not  know  they  had  impressed  the  Esquimaux 
into  their  armies." 

One  Sunday  in  the  fall  of  '83,  I  was  en  route 
from  Detroit  to  Flint,  Mich.,  and  stopped  over  in 
Milwaukee  to  see  John  McCullough,  who  had  not 
been  well  for  some  time.  I  had  a  pleasant  visit, 
took  luncheon  and  sat  chatting  with  him  in  the  of- 
fice of  the  Plankington  Hotel.  He  suddenly  ex- 
cused himself  and  left  me.  He  was  leaving  with 
his  company  for  Chicago  in  the  afternoon,  and  I 
thought  he  had  gone  to  his  room  for  something  he 
had  forgotten.  I  waited  as  long  as  I  could,  but  he 
did  not  return  and  I  had  to  leave  for  my  train.  I 
never  saw  McCullough  alive  again. 

I  learned  afterward  that  when  his  carriage  came 
to  take  him  to  the  depot  he  was  nowhere  to  be 
found.  But  in  the  evening  at  about  eight  o'clock, 
a  farmer  brought  him  to  the  hotel  in  a  buggy.  He 
had  met  McCullough  aimlessly  wandering  on  a 
country  road  some  six  miles  from  town,  recognized 
and  addressed  him,  found  him  incoherent,  induced 


216  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

him  to  get  into  the  buggy  and  brought  him  to 
town. 

The  following  week  while  playing  at  McVick- 
er's  Theatre,  Chicago,  McCullough's  illness  in- 
creased, his  mentality  failed  and  he  was  compelled 
to  close  his  engagement.  Subsequently  he  was 
taken  to  the  asylum  for  the  insane  at  Blooming- 
dale  and  died  about  a  year  following  his  break- 
down. 

I  saw  his  poor  remains  at  his  former  home.  I 
followed  them  to  the  grave  and  with  his  brother 
Elks  dropped  a  bunch  of  forget-me-nots  on  the  cas- 
ket as  it  lay  in  its  last  resting  place  in  the  cemetery 
in  Philadelphia,  where  a  worthy  monument  was 
erected  to  his  memory. 

Dear  old  comrade  and  friend!  In  spite  of  his 
success,  his  life  had  not  been  without  its  sorrows, 
but  he  found  rest  at  last. 

The  inscription  on  his  monument  is  a  just  trib- 
ute to  the  actor,  but  could  I  have  written  it,  I 
would  have  said  of  the  man:  "Those  who  knew 
him  best  loved  him  most." 

In  March,  1884,  an  unfortunate  estrangement 
occurred  between  Mr.  Collins  and  myself  on  both 
personal  and  business  grounds  and  I  left  the  com- 
pany and  his  management.  It  was  a  drastic  meas- 
ure to  take  but  I  felt  at  the  time,  and  still  think, 
my  action  was  justified.  Recriminating  law  suits 
followed,  harassing  and  vexing,  without  satisfac- 
tion to  either  side,  until  time  and  reason  ended  the 
litigation. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   217 

In  April,  '84,  the  second  Dramatic  Festival  took 
place  at  the  Springer  Music  Hall  in  Cincinnati. 

The  Festival  had  been  inaugurated  the  year  pre- 
ceding, with  Edwin  Booth,  Lawrence  Barrett, 
John  McCullough,  James  Murdock,  Mary  Ander- 
son and  others.  This  year  Madame  Modjeska, 
Fanny  Davenport,  Thomas  W.  Keene,  Stuart  Rob- 
son,  W.  H.  Crane  and  myself,  were  the  principals. 

The  Springer  Music  Hall  is  a  very  large  build- 
ing with  an  immense  stage,  and  the  plays  were 
produced'on  a  very  elaborate  scale. 

Enormous  houses  were  drawn  to  the  Festival, 
not  only  from  the  city  of  Cincinnati,  but  from 
many  points  quite  distant  from  which  special  ex- 
cursion trains  were  run. 

The  programme  of  plays  and  cast  of  principals 
were  as  follows: 

Monday,  April  21st — JuUus  Caesar. 

Brutus  Frederick  Warde 

Cassius Barton  Hill 

Marc  Antony. Thos.  W.  Keene 

Portia Constance  Hamblin 

Calphumia  Anna  Warren  Storey 

Tuesday,  April  22d— Twelfth  Night. 

Viola  Madame  Modjeska 

Olivia Mary  Shaw 

Malvolio   Barton  Hill 

Sir  Toby  Belch W.  H.  Crane 

Sir  Andrew  Ague-Cheek.  .Stuart  Robson 


218   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Wednesday  Matinee,  April  23rd — Romeo  and  Juliet. 

Romeo  Thos.  W.  Keene 

Mercutio  Frederick  Warde 

Friar  Lawrence Frank  Clements 

Juliet Madame  Modjeska 

Nurse Mrs.  A.  Pennover 

Wednesday  Night — The  Comedy  of  Errors. 

Dromio  of  Ephesus Wm.  H.  Crane 

Dromio  of  Syracuse Stuart  Robson 

Antipholus  of  Ephesus Frederick  Warde 

Antipholus  of  Sjrracuse. .  .Barton  Hill 

Adriana Miss  Marie  Prescott 

The  Abbess Miss  Mary  Myers 

Thursday,  April  24th — As  You  Like  It. 

Rosalind Fanny  Davenport 

Celia Mary  Shaw 

Orlando Frederick  Warde 

Jaques  Thos.  W.  Keene 

Touchstone , Stuart  Robson 

Duke,  in  exile Barton  Hill 

Friday,  April  25th— Othello. 

Othello Thos.  W.  Keene 

lago  Frederick  Warde 

Cassio Barton  HUl 

Desdemona Madame  Modjeska 

Emelia Mrs.  Agnes  Booth 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   219 

"As  You  Like  It"  was  repeated  for  the  Saturday 
matinee,  and  on  Saturday  night,  April  26th,  the  first 
part  of  King  Henry  the  Fourth. 

King  Henry  the  Fourth.  .Frank  Clements 

Prince  Henry Frederick  Warde 

Hotspur Thos.  W.  Keene 

Falstaff  John  Jack 

Lady  Percy Anna  Warren  Storey 

An  interesting  incident  occurred  during  the  per- 
formance of  "As  You  Like  It."  Mr.  W.  H. 
Crane,  or  as  he  is  affectionately  known,  ** Billy" 
Crane,  was  in  the  audience  and  Stuart  Robson,  his 
associate,  was  on  the  stage,  playing  Touchstone. 
It  suddenly  occurred  to  "Billy"  that  it  was  the 
first  time  since  the  association  of  Robson  and 
Crane  that  one  had  appeared  on  the  stage  without 
the  other.  "Billy"  didn't  like  the  idea;  he  came 
to  the  back  of  the  stage,  found  the  costumer,  pro- 
cured a  pair  of  large  russet  boots,  a  hunting  tunic 
and  a  spear,  cajoled  one  of  the  foresters  to  let  hini 
take  his  place  and  astonished  us  all  by  making  his 
entrance  in  one  of  the  scenes  in  the  forest  and 
proudly  speaking  the  one  line  of  his  part:  "He 
saves  my  labor  by  his  own  approach."  And  thus 
the  association  of  Robson  and  Crane  was  not  inter- 
rupted. 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

I  Visit  Many  Places  and  Meet  Many  People. 

In  the  interim  between  seasons  I  took  part  in  a 
performance  of  some  interest  at  Haverley's  Thea- 
tre, Brooklyn,  then  under  the  management  of 
W.  A.  McConnell.  It  was  on  the  afternoon  and 
evening  of  May  17,  1884,  for  the  benefit  of  the  at- 
taches of  the  theatre. 

In  the  afternoon  I  played  Romeo  to  the  Juliet 
of  Mrs.  Alice  Chapin  Ferris,  a  prominent  lady  in 
Brooklyn  society.  In  the  evening  Richelieu  was 
the  bill.  I  was  the  Cardinal;  W.  A.  McConnell  was 
De  Mauprat,  and  the  then  prominent  young  busi- 
ness man  and  amateur,  now  the  popular  and  deb- 
onair star  in  modern  drama,  Robert  C.  Hilliard, 
was  the  Count  de  Baradas.  I  believe  this  was  Bob 
Hilliard 's  first  appearance  with  professional  act- 
ors. 

The  following  June,  I  was  engaged  by  Williams 
and  Tillotson,  to  go  to  San  Francisco,  accompa- 
nied by  Miss  Kate  Forsjrth,  to  produce  two  mod- 
em plays,  of  which  Mr.  Tillotson  was  the  author, 
called  "Lynwood,"  and  "Queena."  It  was  my 
first  visit  to  the  Pacific  coast  since  "Diplomacy," 
and  I  anticipated  the  trip  with  pleasure. 

The  plays,  however,  were  not  successful  so  the 

220 


"  ^-t^Ilj^  ••  '.^*^     ^IH 

HF       SiBiiiiiii'''niiii     ^'""'H^^-'-'^HHr 

4 

^^Fm 

Frederick  Warde  and  his  son  Ernest  as  King  Lear  and  his  Fool 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   221 

management  substituted  Ingomar  and  Virginius, 
with  Kate  Forsyth  as  Parthenia  and  Virginia,  and 
I  played  Ingomar  and  Virginius. 

Both  parts  were  familiar  to  Miss  Forsyth  and 
myself,  and  our  performances  were  a  great  suc- 
cess. It  is  perhaps  one  of  the  few  instances  when 
two  old  legitimate  plays  redeemed  the  failure  of 
two  modern  dramas  and  brought  success  to  the  en- 
terprise. 

I  trust  I  may  be  pardoned  if  I  quote  with  pride 
the  following  opinion  of  George  Dinsmore,  the 
veteran  dramatic  critic,  in  the  San  Francisco  Eve- 
ning Bulletin,  published  the  day  after  the  per- 
formance of  Virginius: 

"Mr.  Ward's  Virginius  places  him  in  the  first  rank 
of  hving  tragedians.  To  those  who  have  only  seen 
him  in  the  melodramas  produced  at  the  California 
Theatre  some  weeks  ago,  his  masterly  impersonation  of 
the  "Roman  Father"  was  a  revelation.  No  one  sup- 
posed he  possessed  suoh  tragic  power,  or  to  have  given 
the  higher  range  of  characters  the  study  their  success- 
ful impersonation  requires.  Mr.  Booth  as  lago,  in  the 
last  act  of  Othello,  was  supposed  to  have  reached  the 
limit  of  the  capacity  of  the  human  countenance  to  ex- 
press emotion,  but  Mr.  Warde's  last  act  of  Virginius  is 
equally  great.  In  some  respects  it  was  greater,  as  the 
play  of  expression  was  more  varied.  While  the  third 
and  fourth  acts  were  grand,  as  exhibitions  of  tragic 
power,  the  fifth  was  the  artistic  triumph.  The  delinea- 
tion of  the  workings  of  the  disordered  mind,  the  dis- 
cordant laugh  followed  by  a  mental  glimpse  of  the 


222   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

past  which  suflfused  his  eyes  with  tears,  the  terrible 
realism  of  his  call  for  his  dead  daughter,  with  the 
thrilling  whisper  of  the  lines 

"I  hear  a  sound  so  fine 
That  nothing  lives  'twixt  it  and  silence," 

were  examples  of  tragic  acting  we  have  not  seen  in 
many  years.  The  last  scene  in  which  the  death-stricken 
face  of  Virginius  is  seen  upturned  while  the  hands 
clutch  the  throat  of  Claudius  was  a  fit  crown  for  this 
superb  performance. 

The  success  of  Miss  Forsyth  and  myself  in  the 
two  plays  was  so  marked  that  the  management  de- 
cided to  take  us  to  Portland,  Oregon,  and  to  return 
east  over  the  Northern  Pacific  R.  R.,  stopping  at 
several  points  on  that  road. 

We  repeated  our  success  in  Portland  and  pro- 
ceeded to  Spokane  Falls,  as  it  was  then  called, 
where  we  played  over  the  fire  engine  house  to  a  re- 
markably cultivated  and  appreciative  audience. 

Thence  to  Butte,  Montana,  then  quite  a  rough 
and  primitive  mining  camp. 

Miss  Forsyth  and  I  had  letters  of  introduction 
from  Mr.  J.  B.  Haggin,  of  San  Francisco,  to  Mr. 
Marcus  Daly,  his  general  superintendent;  the  re- 
sult was  a  very  cordial  welcome  and  an  opportu- 
nity to  see  everything  of  interest  in  the  camp,  our 
experience  including  a  descent  to  the  800-foot  level 
in  the  celebrated  Anaconda  copper  mine. 

The  manager  of  Henshaw  Hall  in  Butte,  which 
was  used  as  a  theatre,  was  John  Maguire,  a  good- 


FIFTY  YilARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   223 

natured  Irishman  whose  chief  pride  was  his  re- 
semblance to  Lawrence  Barrett,  the  tragedian.  A 
suggestion  to  that  effect  secured  you  his  friend- 
ship. 

Mr.  Maguire  spoke  with  a  strong  Irish  accent,  of 
which  he  was,  of  course,  unconscious:  he  had  been 
an  actor  but  had  given  up  the  stage  to  take  the 
management  of  the  halls  and  theatres  on  the  Mon- 
tana circuit  and  was  exceedingly  popular  through- 
out that  part  of  the  country. 

John  was  a  man  of  many  eccentricities,  generous 
to  a  fault,  loyal  to  his  friends,  fond  of  good  com- 
pany and  ready  to  recite  at  every  opportunity. 
His  favorite  selections  were:  Tennyson's  "Charge 
of  the  Light  Brigade,"  Hood's  "The  Bridge  of 
Sighs,"  and  "Shamus  0 'Brian,"  all  of  which  he 
gave  with  intense  earnestness  in  his  native  accent. 

John's  resourcefulness  and  ready  wit  to  meet 
emergencies  were  keenly  developed  by  his  experi- 
ences in  the  early  days  of  Montana  when  he  trav- 
elled from  camp  to  camp  as  an  entertainer. 

I  can  remember  one  instance  in  particular  that 
capitally  illustrates  this  fact.  I  was  touring  the 
West  with  King  Lear  as  my  feature  play  and  was 
booked  to  appear  in  that  noble  old  character  at 
Butte.  Maguire  was  manager  of  the  theatre. 
My  son  Arthur  was  my  advance  agent.  Just  as  he 
was  about  to  leave  the  town  John  noticed  that  no 
newspaper  cuts  had  been  left  and  asked  for  them. 
My  son  replied  that  the  only  stock  he  had  on  hand 
were  cuts  of  "Rinaldo,  in  The  Lion's  Mouth,"  an 
Italian  youth  of  eighteen;  "and  they  would  never 


224   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

do  for  King  Lear,  who  was  eighty  years  of  age,'* 
said  Arthur.  "Well,  leave  me  one,  anyway,"  in- 
sisted Maguire.  "What's  the  use?"  said  my  son. 
"Tut,  tut,  leave  one,  anyway."  And  my  son  left 
him  "one,  anyway"  to  quiet  the  old  boy. 

A  few  days  later  I  was  astounded  upon  picking 
up  the  Butte  Sunday  Miner,  to  see  the  Rinaldo  cut 
in  the  centre  of  a  big  descriptive  story  of  King 
Lear,  and  underneath  the  inscription,  "King  Lear 
when  a  boy."  I  recognized  John's  ingenuity,  and 
had  a  hearty  laugh,  but  when' we  met  protested 
that  King  Lear  could  never  have  looked  like  that. 
The  only  satisfaction  I  got  was,  "Well,  who's  to 
prove  it,  my  bhoy?" 

John  Maguire  passed  away  some  time  ago, 
mourned  by  many  and  none  more  than  by  me:  but 
his  honest  heart  and  cheery  greeting  of— "Fred, 
me  bhoy,  how  are  ye?  Let's  go  over  to  the  club 
and  have  a  schmall  bottle,"  still  lingers  in  my 
memory. 

Our  last  stop  was  at  Helena,  a  city  with  a  most 
romantic  history.  Originally  a  surface  mining 
camp  known  as  Last  Chance  Gulch,  from  which 
millions  of  dollars  in  gold  have  been  taken,  it  is 
now  a  beautiful  city  of  fine  buildings,  picturesque 
homes  on  the  eloping  mountain  side,  and  is  the 
capital  of  the  State  of  Montana. 

On  returning  to  New  York,  I  made  arrange- 
ments to  resume  my  annual  tours  under  new  man- 
agement. 

Mr.  Henry  Aveling  was  again  my  leading  man 
and  Miss  Mittens  Willett  my  leading  lady.    Later 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   225 

they  married  and  retired  and  Mr.  Clarence  Handy- 
side  and  Miss  Eugenia  Blair  took  their  places. 

Four  years  of  itinerancy  followed. 

During  that  period  I  appeared  in  nearly  every 
state  and  territory  in  the  Union,  playing  in  every 
kind  of  building  from  a  Grand  Opera  House  to  a 
skating  rink,  even  in  an  unoccupied  store— any- 
where in  fact,  where  a  platform  could  be  erected 
and  a  performance  given. 

My  experiences  were  many  and  varied. 

We  were  touring  New  Mexico.  There  had 
been  trouble  with  the  Apache  Indians  and  a  rising 
was  feared.  The  citizens  throughout  the  terri- 
tory—it was  not  then  a  State— were  all  armed  in 
anticipation  of  raids,  and  the  towns  and  their  ap- 
proaches were  patrolled. 

In  Silver  City,  I  played  Virginius  in  a  newly 
built  store.  The  male  portion  of  the  audience 
came  armed  with  rifles,  revolvers  and  belts  of 
cartridges  to  be  in  readiness  if  an  alarm  should  be 
sounded.  No  interruption  occurred,  but  at  the 
close  of  the  performance  the  citizens  insisted  on 
providing  an  armed  guard  to  escort  the  company 
to  the  hotel. 

The  next  morning  an  armed  guard  accompanied 
the  train  on  the  narrow  gauge  railroad  that  took 
us  to  the  main  line,  which  we  reached  without  in- 
cident but  with  great  relief. 

We  continued  on  the  Santa  Fe  railroad  to  Ari- 
zona. In  Tucson,  the  Opera  House  was  built  of 
adobe.  It  had  a  stage  and  some  scenery,  but  no 
seats.    The  box  sheet  was  marked  like  a  checker 


226   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

board,  space  was  sold  in  squares  and  the  audience 
brought  their  seats  with  them  or  sent  them  in  ad- 
vance. The  effect  was  unique.  Every  kind  of 
chair  and  stool  was  brought  into  requisition,  from 
an  upholstered  rocker  to  a  school  bench,  and  as  the 
time  for  the  performance  approached,  groups  of 
people  might  be  seen  coming  from  diJBferent  direc- 
tions carrying  stools  or  chairs  as  if  it  were  a  gen- 
eral moving  day. 

Pigeons  in  large  numbers  had  made  their  home 
in  the  loft  above  the  stage.  Our  advent  had  dis- 
turbed them,  but  they  came  home  to  roost.  The 
action  and  dialogue  of  the  play  did  not  affect 
them,  but  when  the  audience  applauded,  the  flap- 
ping and  rustling  of  hundreds  of  wings  above  our 
heads  by  the  frightened  birds  sounded  like  rush- 
ing water.  The  effect  was  somewhat  disconcert- 
ing to  the  actors,  but  we  became  used  to  it  and  the 
play  proceeded  successfully  to  its  conclusion  and 
the  birds  were  left  in  peace. 

Returning  east  on  the  same  tour,  we  played  sev- 
eral towns  in  the  State  of  Oregon. 

At  Pendelton,  several  Umatilla  Indians  were  in 
the  gallery.  The  play  was  Virginius.  The  In- 
dians were  apparently  interested  and  were  very 
quiet  until  the  fourth  act,  where  Virginius  kills 
his  daughter;  then,  one  of  them  called  out,  "Skoo- 
kum,  Virginius,  Skookum,"  and  the  other  Indians 
took  up  the  cry.  The  audience  applauded,  and 
there  was  no  further  demonstration. 

Major  Moorhouse,  the  Indian  agent,  told  me 
afterward  that    "Skookum"   was  the  Umatilla 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   227 

equivalent  for  "good"  and  that  the  Indians  in- 
tended it  as  an  expression  of  their  appreciation. 

Bismarck,  North  Dakota,  is  located  a  few  miles 
east  of  the  Missouri  River,  which  at  the  nearest 
point  is  bordered  by  precipitous  cliffs,  and  on  the 
western  side  by  a  long  stretch  of  low  lands  and 
marshes  as  far  as  Mandam.  The  marshes  afford  a 
prolific  breeding  place  for  very  aggressive  mosqui- 
toes. 

We  played  Virginius  at  Bismarck,  in  a  skating 
rink  illuminated  by  oil  lamps.  A  western  breeze 
sprang  up  that  lifted  the  mosquitoes  from  their 
nursery  and  brought  them  east.  Their  first  stop- 
ping place  was  Bismarck,  and  the  brilliantly  (?) 
lighted  skating  rink  their  objective  point. 

They  came  in  swarms,  attacked  the  exposed 
arms  and  necks  of  the  actors,  and  punctured  their 
fleshing  tights,  mistaking  them  for  bare  skin. 
The  result  was  a  continuous  slapping  of  the  points 
attacked;  a  smack  punctuating  almost  every  sen- 
tence of  the  dialogue. 

The  body  of  Dentatus  was  brought  to  me  on  a 
bier  covered  with  a  mantle.  The  business  of  the 
play  compelled  me  to  remove  the  mantle;  then,  the 
mosquitoes  attacked  the  corpse  with  such  ferocity 
that  it  came  to  life  and  piteously  begged:— "Cover 
me  up.  Governor,  cover  me  up,  or  they'll  eat  me 
alive." 

The  audience  suffered  in  proportion.  The  la- 
dies covered  their  heads  and  faces  with  their  veils, 
the  gentlemen  wore  their  hats,  inserted  their  hands 


228  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

in  their  sleeves  and  masked  their  faces  with  their 
handkerchiefs  like  burglars  or  train  robbers. 

Our  misery  did  not  cease  with  the  performance; 
the  mosquitoes  preceded  us  to  the  hotel.  A  light 
was  to  invite  an  influx  of  them.  I  managed  to  find 
my  bed  in  the  dark,  but  two  of  the  ladies  who  had 
been  indiscreet  enough  to  light  a  lamp,  were  so 
badly  stung  by  the  insects  and  their  faces  so 
swollen,  that  in  the  morning  they  were  unable  to 
see  until  they  had  resorted  to  liberal  applications 
of  witch  hazel  and  other  remedies. 

I  have  visited  Bismarck  since,  now  the  impor- 
tant capital  of  the  State  of  North  Dakota.  Fortu- 
nately the  wind  was  in  the  other  direction  and  the 
mosquitoes  travelled  westward. 

As  these  incidents  recur  to  my  mind  I  recall  an 
interesting  experience  that  had  its  inception  in  an- 
other part  of  the  country  but  during  the  period  I 
am  now  recording. 

At  Delaware,  Ohio,  there  is  a  Wesleyan  College. 
According  to  the  rules  of  the  institution,  the  stu- 
dents were  not  permitted  to  attend  dramatic  en- 
tertainments at  the  Opera  House;  but  the  rule  was 
not  enforced  when  a  Shakespearean  or  high  class 
play  was  presented. 

I  was  announced  to  play  Richard  III  at  Dela- 
ware. 

Had  the  students  attended  without  consulting 
the  Faculty,  no  notice  would  have  been  taken  ofi 
the  matter;  but  one  of  their  number  went  to  the 
President,  and  specifically  asked  if  the  students 
would  be  permitted  to  attend  the  performance. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   229 

The  President,  thus  cornered  as  it  were,  was  com- 
pelled to  answer,  "No,  the  rules  of  the  college  must 
be  obeyed." 

In  spite  of  this  inhibition,  many  of  the  students, 
disguised  with  wigs,  beards  and  mustachios,  did 
come  to  the  performance  and  the  fact  was  duly  re- 
ported to  the  college  authorities. 

At  chapel  the  following  morning,  being  placed 
upon  their  honor,  the  students  who  had  disobeyed 
the  President's  decree,  admitted  their  guilt  and 
were  punished.  The  juniors  and  sophomores  were 
deprived  of  privileges  and  the  seniors  were  ex- 
pelled. 

Among  the  latter  was  a  student  named  Guy  Pot- 
ter Benton. 

Some  twenty  years  later  I  was  invited  to  deliver 
a  course  of  lectures  at  Oxford,  Ohio,  by  Dr.  Ben- 
ton, the  President  of  Miami  University,  who  enter- 
tained me  as  his  guest  during  my  stay. 

At  a  dinner  with  the  Faculty  the  President  sur- 
prised me  by  asking  if  I  knew  why  I  was  invited  to 
the  University.  I  replied:— "To  deliver  my  lec- 
tures, I  presume."  "Yes,"  returned  the  Presi- 
dent, "and  to  gratify  a  long  deferred  revenge. 
You  were  the  cause  of  my  being  expelled  from  the 
Wesleyan  College  at  Delaware  twenty  years  ago, 
and  I  thought  the  most  Christian  revenge  I  could 
take  would  be  to  invite  you  to  come  to  my  col- 
lege." 

Dr.  Guy  Potter  Benton  then  told  me  the  story  I 
have  related  and  detailed  his  subsequent  reinstate- 
ment and  career.    The  last  communication  I  re- 


230   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

ceived  from  Dr.  Benton  was  from  the  State  Univer- 
sity, at  Burlington,  Vermont,  of  which  institution 
he  was  the  honored  President. 

During  the  period  now  recorded,  I  produced 
two  new  plays,  both  of  which  were  successful  and 
I  retained  them  in  my  repertoire  for  several  sea- 
sons. 

The  first  was  a  Roman  tragedy— Galba  the 
Gladiator,  a  free  adaptation  from  Saumet's  "Le 
Gladiateur,"  by  Leonard  Outram  and  Richard  A. 
Purdy.  The  original  play  was  one  of  the  features 
of  the  repertoire  of  Signor  Salvini,  on  his  tour  of 
this  country,  and  was  given  in  Italian. 

My  second  production  was  ''Gaston  Cadol,"  a 
romantic  drama  by  Celia  Logan,  adapted  from  a 
French  play  called  Jean  D'acier.  The  leading 
part  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  character  of 
Claude  Melnotte  in  "The  Lady  of  Lyons";  in  fact, 
the  critic  of  the  Boston  Sunday  Courier  wittily 
wrote:  "The  same  pack  of  cards  from  which  Bul- 
wer  dealt  The  Lady  of  Lyons  have  been  shuffled 
and  redealt  for  Gaston  Cadol." 

The  verdict  of  a  Boston  audience  has  always 
been  regarded  by  actors,  authors  and  managers 
as  of  the  greatest  importance. 

I  had  appeared  there  as  Julian  Gray,  in  "The 
New  Magdalen"  with  Clara  Morris,  and  achieved 
a  complete  success,  but  in  the  Fall  of  '87,  I  made 
my  first  appeal  to  their  critical  judgment  as  a  star 
in  a  repertoire  of  classic  plays. 

I  appeared  at  the  Hollis  Street  Theatre  as  Vir- 
ginius,  Galba,  Damon  and  Gaston  Cadol.    The  re- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    231 

suit  was  a  triumph.  The  entire  press  devoted  so 
such  space  and  lavished  so  much  eulogy  on  my  per- 
formances that  my  managers  (Messrs.  Hudson  and 
O'Neil)  published  the  reviews  in  a  pamphlet  of 
twenty-five  pages  and  distributed  them  over  the 
country. 

I  again  presume  to  quote  an  extract,  this  time 
from  the  Boston  Evening  Transcript:— 

"As  has  already  been  said,  Mr.  Warde  achieved  a 
triumph.  The  audience  was  inclined  at  first  to  be 
cynical  and  apathetic;  but  how  marked  the  change 
upon  the  appearance  of  Virginius.  He  laid  hold  of  the 
sympathies  of  his  hearers  instantly,  and  held  them  cap- 
tive to  the  end." 

I  commenced  the  season  of  1888-9  under  the 
management  of  Mr.  Joseph  Brooks,  with  an  ex- 
ceptionally strong  company  that  included  Henry 
Aveling,  James  F.  Dean,  Henry  Weaver,  Jr.,  Adele 
Belgarde,  Emma  Maddern,  and  that  splendid 
actress,  so  long  with  the  New  York  Union  Square 
company.  Miss  Ida  Vernon. 

We  opened  our  season  at  Brooklyn,  New  York, 
with  an  elaborate  production  of  Galba  the  Gladi- 
ator, and  later  included  Virginius,  Damon  and 
Pythias,  Gaston  Cadol  and  Richard  III  in  our  rep- 
ertoire. 

At  Baltimore  I  produced  ''William  Tell,"  mak- 
ing a  new  arrangement  of  the  play,  taking  Schil- 
ler's drama,  the  opera,  and  some  historical  facts 
for  my  material.  We  played  Boston  and  renewed 
my  success  of  the  preceding  season. 


232   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Pittsburgh  followed;  but  when  the  time  to  com- 
mence the  performance  on  Monday  evening  came, 
the  scenery  and  baggage  had  not  arrived.  An  ac- 
cident on  the  railroad  had  detained  it.  Virginius 
was  the  play  advertised.  A  large  audience  had  as- 
sembled which  we  were  loth  to  disappoint  and 
lose.  What  was  to  be  done?  At  length,  Mr. 
Phelps,  the  acting  manager  of  the  theatre,  sug- 
gested that  we  give  the  play  with  the  stock  scenery 
in  the  theatre  and  in  our  ordinary  street  clothes. 
After  some  discussion  we  decided  to  do  this.  I 
called  the  company  together,  explained  the  situa- 
tion, pointed  out  the  humor  of  it,  urged  them  to  be 
serious  and  earnest,  apologized  to  the  audience 
and  the  play  began. 

It  was  somewhat  incongruous  to  see  men  and 
women  in  modern  travelling  dress  acting  as  Ro- 
man citizens  and  to  hear  them  speaking  the 
declamatory  blank  verse  of  Sheridan  Knowles;  but 
all  of  the  company  complied  with  my  request  and 
acted  their  parts  with  the  same  sincerity  and  ear- 
nestness as  if  they  were  garbed  in  the  graceful 
tunic,  toga  or  peplum  of  the  ancient  Romans. 

The  audience  took  the  performance  seriously, 
applauded  at  the  usual  points  and  seemed  deeply 
interested. 

By  the  end  of  the  third  act  the  baggage  arrived 
and  we  arrayed  ourselves  in  Roman  costumes,  set 
up  appropriate  scenery  and  so  brought  the  per- 
formance to  a  conclusion. 

Several  friends  of  mine  who  had  witnessed  the 
play  expressed  regret  that  we  had  not  continued 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   233 

the  performance  in  our  modern  dress.  They  had 
found  it  both  unique  and  interesting. 

From  Pittsburgh  to  Philadelphia  at  the  Acad- 
emy of  Music  for  two  weeks. 

In  Philadelphia  there  are  many  societies  and  or- 
ganizations that  by  an  arrangement  with  the  local 
managers  of  the  theatres  take  a  large  number  of 
tickets  at  reduced  rates  and  dispose  of  them  to 
their  members.  This  has  the  double  advantage  of 
increasing  the  attendance  at  the  theatre  and  aug- 
menting the  revenues  of  the  societies. 

Under  such  an  arrangement  I  gave  fourteen  per- 
formances to  enormous  audiences  at  the  historic 
old  building  on  Broad  Street  in  that  city. 

An  accidental  and  delightfully  unconventional 
meeting  with  Sir  Edwin  Arnold,  the  poet,  was  an 
interesting  incident  in  Philadelphia.  Sir  Edwin 
and  Major  Pond,  his  lecture  manager,  came  into 
the  dining  room  of  the  Lafayette  Hotel,  where 
Mrs.  Warde  and  myself  were  taking  breakfast. 
Being  an  old  friend,  Major  Pond  brought  Sir  Ed- 
win to  our  table  and  joined  us.  A  little  later 
George  W.  Childs,  the  editor  and  philanthropist, 
came  in:  he  also  joined  our  little  party,  which  in- 
cluded Henry  Guy  Carleton,  the  author. 

Sir  Edwin  Arnold  was  greatly  interested  in  the 
care  of  children  and  he  and  Mrs.  Warde  were  soon 
discussing  the  subject. 

Mr.  Childs,  the  Major  and  Sir  Edwin  were  on 
their  way  to  Camden  to  visit  Walt  Whitman,  "The 
Good  Grey  Poet,"  who  at  the  time  was  quite  ill  at 
his  home  there.    The  party  gave  me  a  cordial  in- 


234   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

vitation  to  join  them  which,  greatly  to  my  regret, 
I  was  compelled  to  decline,  having  an  important 
rehearsal  I  could  not  postpone  or  dismiss. 

I  was  familiar,  of  course,  with  the  life  and  works 
of  the  author  of  "The  Light  of  Asia,"  but  had  not 
anticipated  the  privilege  of  meeting  him.  In 
stature  he  was  under  medium  height:  in  appear- 
ance and  costume  more  like  a  successful  American 
farmer  than  a  poet.  His  expression  quietly 
genial,  until  aroused  to  interest;  then  his  eyes 
fairly  shone  with  enthusiasm.  His  face  seemed  il- 
luminated and  you  felt  yourself  in  the  presence  of 
a  man  of  intense  magnetism  and  unlimited  imag- 
ination. 

It  was  with  great  reluctance  that  I  rose  from  the 
table  to  go  to  my  rehearsal  and  left  the  Poet,  the 
Philanthropist  and  Major  Pond  to  their  interest- 
ing pilgrimage. 

On  January  10,  '89,  I  produced  "The  Mounte- 
bank" at  the  Grand  Opera  House,  St.  Louis. 

I  had  acted  in  an  old  play  called  "Belphegor" 
some  years  ago,  in  England,  with  Charles  Dillon, 
and  had  been  impressed  with  its  sympathetic  hu- 
man interest  and  the  acting  opportunities  of  the 
leading  character.  Several  versions  of  the  piece 
existed;  I  collected  them  all  and  evolved  from  them 
the  version  I  produced. 

The  play  was  an  instantaneous  success,  and  the 
part  of  Belphegor  suited  me  admirably.  I  played 
it  for  many  seasons,  and  to  this  day  I  am  fre- 
quently asked:  "Mr.  Warde,  when  are  you  going 
to  give  us  'The  Mountebank'  again?" 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   235 

In  the  Spring",  Mr.  Brooks  resigned  my  man- 
agement. I  undertook  the  direction  of  my  own 
business  affairs,  and  carried  a  long  and  successful 
season  to  a  satisfactory  close. 

"The  Mountebank"  proving  so  attractive,  I 
made  it  the  feature  of  the  following  season,  when 
it  surpassed  my  expectations  in  drawing  power 
and  satisfaction  to  the  audiences.  Miss  Adele 
Belgarde  continued  in  the  position  of  leading  lady, 
which  she  filled  with  personal  charm  and  great 
ability. 

Two  other  interesting  members  of  my  company 
were:  Mrs.  Henry  Vandenhoff  and  Mr.  Wilfred 
Clarke.  The  former  was  the  widow  of  Henry 
Vandenhoff,  a  cadet  of  a  distinguished  theatrical 
family  of  England;  the  latter  a  son  of  John 
Sleeper  Clarke,  the  American  comedian,  and  a 
nephew  of  Edwin  Booth. 

Mrs.  Vandenhoff  played  the  "Grand  Dames'* 
with  the  convincing  effect  of  ability  and  experi- 
ence and  Mr.  Clarke  demonstrated  the  inheritance 
of  the  comedy  talent  of  his  distinguished  father. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Genesis  of  the  Warde-James  Combination. 

I  had  long  entertained  an  ambition  to  play  the 
part  of  Cardinal  Wolsey,  in  Shakespeare's  King 
Henry  the  Eighth.  I  recalled  the  pathetic  dig- 
nity of  the  performance  of  the  Cardinal  by  Samuel 
Phelps  in  the  early  days  of  my  dramatic  experi- 
ence in  England,  and  later  I  had  seen  Mr.  George 
Vandenhoff  and  John  McCullough  in  the  part. 

I  learned  that  Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers,  an  actress  of 
distinction  and  long  experience,  was  at  liberty, 
and  after  brief  negotiation  succeeded  in  engaging 
her  as  a  co-star,  to  play  the  part  of  Queen  Kather- 
ine  and  other  prominent  characters  in  my  reper- 
toire. 

The  play  was  given  quite  an  elaborate  produc- 
tion and  the  cast  of  principals,  which  I  append, 
was  most  efficient. 

King  Henry  VIII Mr.  B.  C.  Turner 

Cardinal  Wolsey Frederick  Warde 

Duke  of  Buckingham Chas.  D.  Herman 

Duke  of  Norfolk H.  C.  Barton 

Cromwell Harry  Leighton 

Queen  Katherine Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers 

Anne  Boleyn Miss  Catherine  Coggswell 

236 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   237 

I  achieved  my  object  in  the  production  of  the 
play  and  my  performance  of  Cardinal  Wolsey  was 
well  received,  but  Henry  VIII  is  rather  a  pano- 
rama of  historical  incidents  than  a  drama,  and 
while  the  play  was  received  with  interest  and  the 
acting  of  Mrs.  Bowers  and  myself  highly  praised 
by  the  press,  it  failed  to  arouse  sufficient  enthusi- 
asm to  fill  out  our  engagements  in  the  large  cities. 
I  was,  therefore,  compelled  to  select  a  repertoire 
in  which  we  both  could  appear  to  more  advantage. 

Macbeth,  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Galba  the 
Gladiator  and  Damon  and  Pythias  were  the  plays 
selected,  and  they  proved  very  attractive. 

Mrs.  Bowers'  performances  were  remarkable. 
I  liked  her  Lady  Macbeth  better  than  Miss  Cush- 
man's.  It  was  less  domineering,  more  womanly. 
A  wife  who  loved  her  husband,  gloried  in  his 
strength,  knew  his  weakness,  and  advanced  her 
arguments  with  a  foreknowledge  that  would  con- 
vince. 

I  have  always  contended  that  Lady  Macbeth's 
ambition  was  not  for  herself  but  for  her  husband. 
There  is  not  in  the  part  a  single  reference  to  her 
own  advantage;  it  is  always  "Our";  **Our  nights 
and  days  to  come,"  "Our  desire,"  etc.,  and  I  hold 
that  she  deliberately  sacrificed  her  peace  on  earth 
and  hope  of  the  hereafter,  for  the  sake  of  the  man 
she  loved.  Such  was  the  Lady  Macbeth  Mrs. 
Bowers  presented. 

It  would  seem  a  matter  of  some  difficulty  for  a 
lady  sixty-four  years  of  age  to  give  a  satisfactory 
presentation  of  Portia,  in  "The  Merchant  of  Ven- 


238   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

ice,"  but  Mrs.  Bowers'  skill  in  make-up,  buoyancy 
of  carriage,  faultless  reading  and  dramatic  instinct 
together  with  personal  distinction,  completely  dis- 
guised all  evidence  of  physical  maturity  and  you 
saw  only  the  living  embodiment  of  the  young  and 
fair  "Mistress  of  Belmont." 

Mrs.  Bowers  bore  admirably  the  fatigues  and 
discomforts  of  a  tour  that  extended  from  coast  to 
coast,  missed  but  one  performance  through  a  tem- 
porary indisposition,  and  gave  to  me  and  the  pub- 
lic the  loyal  service  of  a  conscientious  artist.  My 
memory  of  Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers— and  she  is  now  but 
a  memory  to  all  of  us— is  that  of  an  estimable  lady 
and  a  splendid  actress. 

Prior  to  the  opening  of  the  season,  a  young  Eng- 
lishman, named  Walter  E.  Bentley,  applied  to  me 
for  an  engagement.  His  appearance  was  not  im- 
pressive, but  I  was  influenced  by  his  apparent  sin- 
cerity and  engaged  him  for  small  parts.  Some 
time  after  the  season  had  begun,  my  business  man- 
ager complained  to  me  that  Mr.  Bentley  was  carry- 
ing baggage  far  in  excess  of  the  usual  allowance 
and  that  the  baggage  agents  objected  to  handling 
his  heavy  trunk.  He  had  protested  to  Mr.  Bent- 
ley without  satisfaction  and  asked  me  to  take  the 
matter  up  with  him. 

I  sent  for  Bentley  and  inquired  the  necessity  for 
such  heavy  baggage.  He  said  he  was  carrying 
books.  * 'Books?"  I  asked.  "Why,  can't  you  get 
the  books  you  require  from  the  public  libraries  in 
the  towns  we  visit?"  "No,"  he  replied.  "They 
are  works  I  am  studying  preparatory  to  entering 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   239 

a  theological  seminary,  with  a  view  to  becoming  a 
minister  of  the  Episcopal  Church."  I  became 
deeply  interested,  discussed  the  subject  of  his  stud- 
ies with  him  and  arranged  a  division  of  his  bag- 
gage that  avoided  any  further  trouble  in  that  di- 
rection. 

Mr.  Bentley  did  enter  the  New  York  Theological 
Seminary,  was  subsequently  ordained  a  minister 
and  after  serving  as  curate  to  several  prominent 
clergymen,  became  pastor  of  a  small  parish  in 
New  York  State,  and  finally  rector  of  the  Church 
of  the  Ascension  in  the  eastern  district  of  Brook- 
lyn, where  he  still  officiates. 

Mr.  Bentley  never  lost  his  love  of  the  stage  and 
the  drama.  His  great  ambition  was  to  bring  into 
closer  relations  the  church  and  the  stage.  To  that 
end  he  enlisted  the  co-operation  of  the  late  Bishop 
Potter,  of  New  York,  in  the  project,  and  in  con- 
junction with  that  broad  and  liberal  churchman, 
founded  the  Actor's  Church  Alliance,  an  organ- 
ization that  is  now  in  active  operation  and  has 
chapters  and  chaplains  in  almost  all  of  the  cities 
and  larger  towns  in  the  United  States. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  four  former  members  of  my 
companies  became  ministers  of  the  Episcopal 
Church:— Rev.  R.  E.  Lee  Tanner,  deceased;  Rev. 
Wilson  Tanner,  of  Homer,  N.  Y,;  Rev.  Lambert, 
of  Syracuse,  N.  Y.,  and  Rev.  Walter  Bentley,  of 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  who  have  all  acknowledged  their 
dramatic  training  and  experience  has  been  of  the 
greatest  service  to  them  in  their  later  calling. 

Through  the  good  offices  of  a  mutual  friend,  I 


240  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

was  introduced  to  Henry  Guy  Carleton,  a  journal- 
ist of  note  and  former  editor  of  "Life." 

Mr.  Carleton  suffered  from  the  worst  impedi- 
ment of  speech  I  ever  heard.  In  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  a  consonant  he  commenced  with  a  stutter, 
followed  it  with  a  gurgle  and  concluded  with  an 
eructation  that  produced  the  necessary  sound. 
He  was  not  at  all  sensitive  to  his  affliction  but  hu- 
morously declared:  * 'People  say  I  stutter.  I 
don't.    I  only  punctuate  peculiarly." 

I  found  to  my  surprise  this  condition  to  be  con- 
tagious. 

Carleton  spent  some  three  weeks  as  my  guest  at 
my  country  home;  before  the  end  of  the  first  week 
iny  entire  family  was  stuttering.  It  was  only  a 
slight  stutter  and  fortunately  temporary,  but  it 
was  in  evidence. 

Carleton  had  a  remarkable  faculty  for  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge.  Without  calling  him  a 
learned  man,  I  have  met  few  men  better  informed 
on  general  subjects. 

Carleton  had  written  a  play  called  "The  Lion's 
Mouth,"  which  he  read  to  me.  In  spite  of  the  vocal 
difficulties  of  his  reading,  I  was  greatly  pleased 
with  it  and  contracted  for  its  production. 

It  was  an  Italian  romance  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, written  in  fine  English  blank  verse,  ad- 
mirable in  construction  and  redolent  with  poetic 
imagination. 

I  produced  it  at  the  California  Theatre,  San 
Francisco,  on  March  16,  1891.  It  was  an  un- 
qualified success,  and  the  next  morning  the  San 


Ernest  Warde  as  the  Fool  in  "King  Lear" 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE  241 

Francisco  Chronicle  said  in  the  first  paragraph  of 
a  lengthy  review:— 

"Considering  the  fact  that  Henry  Guy  Carleton  is  an 
American,  that  he  has  been  trjmig  vainly  for  some  years 
to  have  his  work  produced  in  the  east,  and  that  it  is  a 
blank  verse  play,  the  reception  given  to  'The  Lion's 
Mouth'  last  night  at  the  California  Theatre  by  a 
crowded  house  may  be  set  down  as  a  triumph." 

My  acting  and  that  of  the  whole  company  was 
also  highly  commended  by  the  entire  press  of  the 
city. 

I  found  the  dramatic  merit,  interest  and  novelty 
of  "The  Lion's  Mouth"  sufficiently  attractive  to 
make  it  the  feature  of  the  following  season  and 
have  retained  it  in  my  repertoire  for  many  years. 

In  the  spring  of  1901,  I  played  an  engagement 
at  the  National  Theatre,  Washington,  D.  C.  On 
the  Friday  of  the  week,  May  15th  (I  remember  the 
date  as  it  is  a  family  birthday),  I  called  at  the 
White  House  to  pay  my  respects  to  President  Mc- 
Kinley,  whom  I  had  known  for  many  years  and 
had  met  frequently  in  terms  of  cordial  friendship 
when  he  was  in  Congress  from  the  State  of  Ohio. 

The  President  gave  me  a  hearty  welcome,  greet- 
ing me  with  the  salutation:  "Well,  you  apostle 
of  the  west,"  referring  to  my  enthusiasm  over 
that  rapidly  developing  section  of  our  country. 

We  talked  of  old  times,  old  friends  and  finally 
of  Shakespeare.  He  asked  me  what  plays  I  was 
presenting  on  my  current  tour.    I  named  them  and 


242   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

amongst  them  Shakespeare's  play  of  King  Hemry 
the  Eighth. 

The  President '  expressed  the  greatest  disap- 
pointment that  his  engagements  would  not  permit 
him  to  witness  a  performance  of  that  play,  telling 
me  he  had  found  in  the  text  of  Henry  VIII  a  pas- 
sage that  he  had  adopted  as  the  motto  of  his  life. 

I  inquired  what  particular  passage  he  referred 
to.  He  recited  the  following  lines  from  Cardinal 
Wolsey's  parting  advice  to  Cromwell  in  the  third 
act:— "Let  all  the  ends  thou  aim'st  at  be  thy  coun- 
try's, thy  God's  and  truth's." 

I  followed  with  the  lines  of  the  text,  slightly 
paraphrasing  them:  *  'Then,  if  thou  fall'st,  0,  Mr. 
President,  thou  fall'st  a  blessed  martyr." 

The  President  smiled  and  said:  "Yes,  those 
are  the  words." 

I  left  him  and  never  saw  him  again. 

The  following  summer  the  President  made  the 
trip  to  the  Pacific  Coast  that  I  had  so  long  advo- 
cated. As  I  had  foretold,  it  was  a  triumphal 
march  that  was  only  curtailed  by  the  illness  of 
Mrs.  McKinley.  On  the  President's  return  to  the 
east,  he  visited  the  Exposition  at  Buffalo,  New 
York,  where  he  was  shot  by  an  assassin  and  died  a 
few  days  afterward. 

When  the  news  of  President  McKinley 's  death 
reached  me,  I  recalled  our  interview  and  conversa- 
tion only  four  months  before,  and  reviewing  the 
facts  of  his  life  and  the  conditions  of  his  death,  I 
think  it  must  be  conceded  that  he  had  been  true  to 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   243 

the  motto  he  had  chosen;  that  all  the  ends  he  had 
aimed  at  had  been  for  his  country,  his  God  and 
truth.  His  name  and  memory  will  live  in  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  his  surviving  countrymen  as 
"A  blessed  martyr." 

I  made  my  annual  visit  to  Richmond,  Va.,  in  the 
Fall.  In  my  room  in  the  old  Ballard-Exchange 
Hotel  I  was  interrupted  by  a  colored  servant,  who 
announced  that  two  gentlemen  desired  to  see  me 
in  the  office.  Being  busily  engaged  with  cor- 
respondence, I  asked  for  their  cards.or  names.  The 
man  replied:  "Dey  didn't  give  no  name  nor 
keard,  but  I  specs  you  had  better  come  down  and 
see  'em."  Noticing  his  disturbed  condition,  I  fol- 
'owed  him  to  the  office.  Two  men  in  plain  clothes 
approached  and  inquired  if  I  was  Mr.  Warde.  I 
answered,  "Yes."  They  exhibited  their  shields 
and  told  me  to  accompany  them,  as  I  was  under  ar- 
rest. To  my  astonished  inquiry  as  to  where  and 
for  what  offence,  they  replied  that  I  would  know 
in  good  time.  They  then  escorted  me  to  the  Gov- 
ernor's Mansion,  opposite  the  Capitol,  and 
knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  opened;  they  directed 
me  to  enter;  I  did  so.  They  left  me  and  I  was 
shown  into  a  reception  room.  In  a  few  minutes 
Mrs.  Lee,  the  wife  of  the  Governor,  came  in, 
greeted  me  cordially,  and  chatted  on  general  sub- 
jects; still  I  was  in  the  dark  as  to  my  restraint. 
Then  General  Fitzhugh  Lee,  the  Governor,  came  in 
from  the  Capitol,  and  laughing  heartily,  ex- 
claimed: "So  you  are  here,  are  you?  You're  a 
nice  fellow!    You've  been  in  town  two  hours  and 


244   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

didn't  come  to  see  me,  so  I  had  two  of  my  officers 
arrest  you." 

A  delightful  family  luncheon  delayed  my  cor- 
respondence still  further,  but  left  the  memory  of  a 
pleasing  episode  and  happy  association  with  one 
of  the  distinguished  soldiers  and  men  of  the  coun- 
try and  his  delightful  family. 

The  sudden  death  of  Lawrence  Barrett  brought 
the  very  successful  association  of  Booth  and  Bar- 
rett to  a  close. 

I  made  a  proposition  to  Mr.  Booth  to  resume  his 
tour  the  following  season  with  the  support  of  Mrs. 
Bowers,  myself  and  a  very  popular  leading  lady; 
in  reply  to  which  Mr.  Booth  wrote  me:— 

"Narragansett  Pier, 
"Sept.  7th,  1891. 
"My  dear  Mr.  Warde: 

"Your  offer  is  very  tempting,  but  unfortunately  I  am 
not  free  to  entertain  it;  even  were  I  able  to  resume 
work  this  season — ^which  I  do  not  contemplate  attempt- 
ing for  at  least  a  year. 


"With  sincere  wishes  for  your  continued  success, 

"I  am  truly  yours, 
"Edwin  Booth." 

Mr.  Louis  James  and  Miss  Marie  Wainwright 
had  been  starring  together  for  several  years;  but 
an  unfortunate  estrangement  had  separated  them, 
and  Mr.  James  was  playing  in  a  melodrama  called 
''The  Soudan."    It  occurred  to  me  that  an  asso- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE  245 

elation  with  such  an  actor,  and  such  a  man  as  I 
knew  Louis  James  to  be,  would  be  very  congenial 
and  give  strength  and  dignity  to  any  plays  we 
might  decide  to  give. 

I  opened  negotiations  with  him,  and  after  a  brief 
correspondence  I  engaged  him  on  mutually  satis- 
factory terms  for  a  period  of  three  years.  Mr. 
James'  final  telegram  closing  the  matter,  singu- 
larly characteristic  of  the  man,  was  in  the  follow- 
ing words:  **A11  right.  We  double.  Toil  and 
trouble.  Yours,  Louis,"  and  that  was  the  only 
contract  between  us. 

In  the  meantime  Edwin  Booth  had  decided  to 
permanently  retire,  and  I  purchased  from  the  ex- 
ecutors of  the  Barrett  estate  the  elaborate  scenic 
equipment,  properties  and  costumes  used  by  the 
Booth  and  Barrett  Combination. 

I  also  secured  the  rights  to  George  Boker's 
great  play,  Francesca  da  Rimini,  in  which  Mr. 
James  had  made  such  a  profound  impression  as 
Pepe  the  Jester. 

I  engaged  quite  a  large  and  efficient  company. 
Charles  D.  Herman  and  Howard  Kyle  were  the 
leading  men,  and  Miss  Edythe  Chapman,  a  beau- 
tiful woman  and  a  splendid  actress,  was  the  lead- 
ing lady,  remaining  with  us  for  three  years. 

Thus  equipped  and  with  a  repertoire  that  in- 
cluded Julius  Caesar,  Othello,  The  Lion's  Mouth, 
and  Francesca  da  Rimini,  we  opened  our  season 
at  the  New  National  Theatre,  Washington,  D.  C, 
on  Sept.  12,  1892,  and  for  three  consecutive  sea- 
sons toured  the  country,  making  some  additions  to 


246   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

the  repertoire  of  plays,  producing  one  new  one, 
meeting  with  substantial  patronage  and  receiving 
the  most  flattering  evidence  of  appreciation  from 
our  audiences. 

Not  a  single  note  of  discord  marred  the  happy 
relations  between  Mr.  James  and  myself  during 
that  period.  In  business  he  was  loyalty  itself; 
and  nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  the 
complete  comradeship  that  existed  between  us. 

Louis  James  was  a  splendid  actor,  but  seldom 
took  life,  his  profession  or  himself  seriously.  He 
had  a  keen  sense  of  humor  that  served  as  a  pallia- 
tive for  care,  but  it  sometimes  marred  the  effect 
of  his  best  professional  work  and  militated  against 
his  personal  dignity. 

At  heart  he  was  a  soldier,  and  I  am  inclined  to 
think  the  loss  of  the  opportunity  to  enter  the  mili- 
tary service  when  it  offered  was  the  disappoint- 
ment of  his  life. 

Louis  James  was  bom  in  Illinois.  His  father 
was  Probate  Judge  of  the  county.  In  his  youth 
he  studied  and  became  very  proficient  in  Upton's 
Tactics,  then  the  standard  authority  on  the  manual 
of  arms.  It  was  at  the  period  of  unrest  prior  to 
the  Civil  War  between  the  North  and  South.  Mili- 
tary companies  were  formed  in  the  various  town- 
ships and  young  James  was  called  upon,  on  ac- 
count of  his  proficiency,  to  instruct  them  in  their 
drilling,  etc.  War  was  declared.  President  Lin- 
coln issued  his  call  for  men.  Several  of  the  com- 
panies were  mobilized  into  a  regiment  and  Louis 
James  was  elected  Major.    The  regiment  was  or- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE  247 

dered  to  the  front  but  Louis  was  under  the  legal 
age  and  his  father  would  not  permit  him  to  go.  It 
was  a  bitter  disappointment  and  made  more  so  by 
the  fact  that  the  Lieutenant- Colonel  of  the  regi- 
ment was  killed  in  the  first  engagement  and  the 
Major  who  had  taken  Louis'  place  was  promoted 
to  that  rank. 

Louis  remained  at  home  until  he  became  of  age, 
then  enlisted  as  a  private  in  a  regiment  of  New 
York  artillery,  saw  considerable  active  service, 
and  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of  Sergeant.  At 
the  close  of  the  war  he  joined  Ellsworth's  Zouaves 
and  toured  the  country  with  that  organization, 
giving  exhibition  drills.  The  Zouave  company 
disbanded  at  Baltimore  and  Louis  James  obtained 
an  engagement  at  Ford's  Grand  Opera  House  in 
that  city  and  became  an  actor. 

He  never  lost  his  interest  in  the  army  or  in  mili- 
tary matters.  His  greatest  pleasure  was  a  visit 
to  an  army  post  to  see  a  dress  parade.  During  the 
Boer  war,  he  carried  with  him  a  set  of  military 
maps  of  South  Africa,  and  on  a  table  in  his  room 
would  follow  the  movements  and  activities  of  the 
contending  forces  with  colored  pins,  as  they  were 
reported  in  the  press  dispatches. 

Mr.  James'  humor  sometimes  took  the  form  of 
practical  jesting  on  the  stage,  which  proved  em- 
barrassing to  the  other  actors.  He  played  Brutus 
in  Julius  Caesar,  and  played  it  admirably.  I  usu- 
ally played  Marc  Antony,  but  one  season  I  found 
the  cast  to  be  more  effective  by  playing  Cassius. 
Near  the  close  of  the  first  act,  Brutus,  after  a  long 


248   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

dialogue  with  Gassius,  clasps  his  hand  and  takes 
his  leave  with  a  parting  speech  slightly  transposed 
from  the  text,  commencing:— 

"Till  then,  my  noble  friend,  chew  upon  this: 
Brutus  had  rather  be  a  villager,  &c.'* 

Before  the  scene  began  James  would  search  the 
stage  and  property  room  for  some  small  article 
that  he  could  conceal  in  his  toga,  and  when  he 
reached  the  words:  "Chew  upon  this,"  would 
leave  it  in  my  hand.  Sometimes  it  would  be  a 
stage  screw,  an  apple,  a  nail,  or  a  tomato,  even  a 
match-box,  an3rthing  he  could  find.  I  had  to  hold 
it  and  keep  it  concealed  while  I  spoke  the  soliloquy 
that  concluded  the  act.  It  disconcerted  me  at 
first,  but  I  grew  so  accustomed  to  it  that  it  became 
merely  a  question:  What  will  he  give  me  to  chew 
on  to-night? 

When  playing  Othello,  standing  by  the  bedside 
of  Desdemona  in  the  last  act,  apostrophising  her 
sleeping  form,  he  took  some  of  the  dark  color  of 
his  make-up  and  marked  a  moustache  and  imperial 
on  the  face  of  the  sleeping  figure.  It  was  un- 
noticed by  the  audience,  but  later,  as  other  actors 
came  upon  the  scene  and  saw  the  face  of  Desde- 
mona lying  on  the  pillow  wreathed  in  golden  hair 
but  disfigured  by  apparent  hirsute  tufts  over  her 
mouth  and  chin,  they  were  convulsed  with  laugh- 
ter and  the  effect  of  a  great  tragic  scene  was  de- 
stroyed. 

In  the  course  of  our  second  season  I  made  quite 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   249 

an  elaborate  production  of  the  first  part  of  Shakes- 
peare's  "King  Henry  the  Fourth."  Beverley 
Turner  played  the  King,  Guy  Lindsay  Hotspur, 
Ed3rthe  Chapman  Lady  Percy,  myself  Prince  Hal 
and  Louis  James,  Falstaff. 

How  James  did  revel  in  the  humor  of  the  old, 
fat  Knight.  He  had  a  capital  make-up,  a  trifle 
too  neat  and  clean  perhaps,  but  the  ready  wit,  the 
fun  and  the  merriment  of  the  old  reprobate  were 
delightfully  portrayed.  He  infused  an  exhilara- 
tion in  us  all  by  the  spirit  with  which  he  invested 
his  part.  The  unctuous  humor  with  which  he  de- 
livered the  soliloquy  on  honor  was  perfect.  I  can 
see  his  face  and  hear  his  voice  as  I  repeat  the 
words:— 

"Well,  'tis  no  matter;  honour  pricks  me  on.  Yea, 
but  how  if  honour  prick  me  off  when  I  come  on?  how 
then?  Can  honour  set  to  a  leg?  no;  or  an  arm?  no;  or 
take  away  the  grief  of  a  wound?  no.  Honour  hath  no 
sldll  in  surgery,  then?  no.  What  is  honour?  a  word. 
What  is  in  that  word  honour?  what  is  that  honour?  air. 
A.  trim  reckoning!  Who  hath  it?  he  that  died  o* 
Wednesday.  Doth  he  feel  it?  no.  Doth  he  hear  it?  no. 
'Tis  insensible,  then?  yea,  to  the  dead.  But  will  it  not 
live  with  the  hving?  no.  Why?  detraction  will  not 
suffer  it.  Therefore  I'll  none  of  it.  Honour  is  a  mere 
scutcheon:  and  so  ends  my  catechism." 

William  Greer  Harrison  was  a  prominent  busi- 
ness man  of  San  Francisco,  president  of  the 
Ol3mipic,  and  an  active  member  of  the  Bohemian 


250   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Club.  Mr.  Harrison  had  considerable  literary 
ability,  had  written  a  play  called  "The  Prince  of 
Ulster,"  for  that  splendid  actor,  James  O'Neill, 
and  had  arranged  several  local  pageants  and  spec- 
tacles. 

Discussing  dramatic  matters  one  evening  in  the 
Bohemian  Club,  Harrison  said:  "Warde,  I  should 
Hike  to  write  a  play  for  you."  I  replied:  "All 
right,  do  it."  He  asked:  "What  subject?" 
"Robin  Hood,"  I  answered;  "make  it  in  four  acts, 
locate  all  of  the  scenes  in  Sherwood  Forest,  and 
represent  the  four  seasons."  "I'll  do  it,"  con- 
cluded Harrison. 

This  conversation  occurred  in  the  latter  part  of 
April  and  by  the  end  of  August  the  complete  man- 
uscript of  "Runnymede"  was  in  my  hands.  Mr. 
Harrison  had  followed  my  suggestions  and  the 
result  was  an  historical  romance,  poetically  ex- 
pressed and  affording  an  opportunity  for  a  beauti- 
ful sylvan  setting. 

I  accepted  the  play.  Solly  Walter,  a  distin- 
guished artist  of  San  Francisco,  designed  the 
scenery  and  costumes  and  Dr.  Humphrey  Stewart 
composed  the  incidental  music. 

Being  essentially  a  San  Francisco  production, 
I  gave  the  first  performance  of  "Runnymede"  at 
the  California  Theatre  in  that  city  on  Feb.  18, 
1895.  - 

The  cast  included  Louis  James  as  Friar  Tuck, 
Walter  Walker  as  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  Guy 
Lindsay  as  King  John,  Brigham  Royce  as  Little- 
john,  Beverley  Turner  as  Bishop  Langton,  Edythe 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   251 

Chapman  as  Maid  Marian,  Fanny  Bowman  as 
Marjorie,  and  of  course  I  played  Robin  Hood. 

The  occasion  was  a  social  event  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, the  house  was  packed  and  the  play  and  the 
acting  met  with  every  mark  of  appreciation.  The 
press  notices  were  all  satisfactory,  and  after  a 
week's  run,  which  concluded  our  San  Francisco 
engagement,  I  put  the  play  and  the  production  in 
reserve  for  the  following  season. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
King  Lear. 

At  the  close  of  our  third  season  and  the  termina- 
tion of  our  contract  Mr.  James  thought  that  his 
interest  and  prospects  would  be  better  accom- 
plished alone;  and  the  very  happy  association  of 
the  past  three  years  came  to  an  end. 

Our  final  performance  was  Julius  Caesar,  the 
same  play  that  had  inaugurated  our  alliance,  and 
was  given  at  the  Schiller  Theatre,  in  Chicago,  May 
18, 1895. 

We  parted  the  best  of  friends  and  with  sincere 
good  wishes. 

The  Chicago  Inter-Ocean  of  the  following  morn- 
ing recorded  the  circumstances,  the  quoted  lines 
accurately  expressing  our  mutual  sentiments:— 

"Frederick  Warde  and  Louis  James  made  their  final 
appearance  as  joint  stars  last  evening  on  the  stage  of 
the  Schiller  in  'Julius  Caesar/  the  event  calling  out  a 
large  and  appreciative  audience.  Histrionically  the  per- 
formance was  one  of  unusual  power  and  brilliancy  and 
found  enthusiastic  favor  with  the  audience.  The  speech 
of  Mr.  James  as  Brutus  had  rare  pathos.  'Forever  and 
forever  farewell,  Cassius.  If  we  do  meet  again,  we  shall 
smile.  If  not,  why,  then  this  parting  was  well  made.* 
Mr.  Warde  as  Antony  was  singularly  moving  and  par 

252 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   253 

thetic  at  the  side  of  his  companion  in  arms,  with  the 
final  sentiment,  'This  was  the  noblest  Roman  of  them 
all.'  " 

As  a  matter  of  interest  I  append  a  table  pre- 
pared by  my  stage-manager,  of  the  length  of  the 
season,  the  cities  visited,  the  plays  and  the  num- 
ber of  performances  given. 

Length  of  season 34  Weeks 

Number  of  cities  visited 86     " 

Number  of  performances  given 246     ' ' 

Matinees  (included  in  above) 39     " 

Henry  IV,  performed. 98  Times 

Francesca  da  Rimini 33     " 

Julius  Caesar 34     " 

OtheUo 23     " 

Richard  m 21     " 

The  Lion's  Moizth 14     " 

Richelieu 14     " 

Runnymede 9     " 

I  opened  my  next  season  at  the  Columbia  The- 
atre, Brookljm,  with  Runn3miede,  but  found  that 
it  did  not  attract  or  interest  the  public  and  was 
therefore  compelled  to  fall  back  on  my  old  reper- 
toire of  Virginius,  The  Mountebank,  The  Lion's 
Mouth  and  Damon  and  Pythias,  which  succeeded 
remarkably  well. 

In  February  '96,  I  achieved  a  long-cherished 
desire  by  producing  Shakespeare's  tragedy  of 
King  Lear,  and  playing  the  part  that  for  three 
centuries  has  been  the  aspirations  of  the  genius  of 
the  stage. 


254  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

For  several  seasons  friends  had  suggested  this 
character  to  me,  and  the  suggestion  coincided  with 
jny  ambition;  but  up  to  that  time  I  did  not  feel 
that  I  had  yet  mastered  the  complex  emotions  of 
what  I  consider  to  be  the  greatest  character  that 
Shakespeare  has  drawn. 

Certain  personal  experiences,  however,  had 
made  me  realize  the  relations  between  a  parent 
and  his  adult  children:  the  period  when  the  judg- 
ment of  the  parent  and  the  child  may  differ,  and 
in  spite  of  paternal  and  filial  affection  must  be 
considered,  and  then  I  felt  that  I  could  better 
comprehend  the  conditions  that  existed  between 
King  Lear  and  his  daughters. 

With  that  understanding  I  approached  the 
character,  and  with,  I  hope,  pardonable  pride  and 
satisfaction  I  may  say,  achieved  a  most  gratifying 
success.  I  had  prepared  a  substantially  good  pro- 
duction of  the  tragedy,  with  new  scenery  and  cos- 
tumes. My  master  carpenter  and  the  electrician 
designed  and  perfected  some  admirable  effects  for 
the  storm  scene,  the  company  was  efficient  and 
altogether  it  was  a  most  satisfactory  production. 

Of  my  performance  of  Lear,  the  Salt  Lake  Her- 
ald said  in  a  lengthy  review  of  the  production:— 

"Mr.  Warde's  achievement  was  marvelous.  The  cru- 
cial test  is,  of  course,  the  great  curse  scene,  and  in  this 
he  rose  to  great  heights.  The  mad  scenes  were  not  less 
pathetic  and  powerful,  and  throughout  Warde  gave 
evidence  of  being  entirely  able  to  cope  with  the  great 
character  he  has  added  to  his  repertoire." 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   255 

The  other  papers  were  equally,  and  some  even 
more  enthusiastic  over  the  performance.  This 
was  the  more  gratifying  to  me  as  Salt  Lake  City 
had  for  years  been  an  important  dramatic  centre. 

In  the  early  days  the  Mormon  settlers  had  built 
the  fine  old  Salt  Lake  Theatre,  the  materials  for 
which,  it  is  said,  were  brought  across  the  plains 
in  ox-carts,  and  which  still  stands  a  monument  to 
their  appreciation  of  the  drama.  For  many  years 
these  early  settlers  supported  and  encouraged  a 
fine  stock  company  that  gave  regular  perform- 
ances of  standard  drama  under  able  direction,  and 
several  of  our  popular  actors  obtained  their  early 
training  there. 

To-day,  the  best  amateur  dramatic  and  musical 
society  in  the  United  States  is  to  be  found  in  Salt 
Lake  City.  It  is  composed  mainly  of  members  of 
the  Mormon  Church,  some  of  them  prominent  in 
business  and  financial  circles,  who  give  several 
performances  during  the  season,  not  only  in  Salt 
Lake  but  in  other  cities  in  the  State  of  Utah.  In 
fact,  in  no  part  of  this  country  is  the  drama  more 
liberally  patronized  and  intelligently  appreciated 
than  in  the  valley  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake. 

The  success  of  King  Lear  in  Salt  Lake  City  was 
repeated  in  Los  Angeles,  San  Francisco,  Sacra- 
mento and  Portland,  Oregon. 

In  the  last  named  city  a  most  elaborate  dinner 
was  tendered  me  by  Mr.  Frederick  V.  Holman,  at 
the  Arlington  Club.  Mr.  Holman,  a  student  of 
Shakespeare  and  a  great  lover  of  the  drama,  was 
a  friend  of  many  years'  standing,  and  one  of  the 


256  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

first  to  suggest  my  taking  up  the  character  of 
King  Lear. 

The  Menu,  a  pamphlet  illuminated  and  bound  in 
parchment,  was  most  unique  and  the  quotations 
so  apt  and  ingenious  that  I  think  the  reproduction 
will  be  found  interesting. 

MENU 

of  a  Dinner  given  to 

Mr.  FREDERICK  WARDS 

by 

Mr.  Frederick  V.  Holman 

at 

The  Arlington  Club,  Portland,  Oregon, 

March  29,  1896, 

In  honor  of  the  first  performance  by  Mr.  Warde,  in 

Portland, 

of 

KING  LEAR. 


"Well,  sir,  I'll  bring  you  to  our  master,  Lear." 


Amontillado  Sherry  and  Angosturo  Bitters. 
"You  we  first  seize  on."    Act  n.  Scene  I. 


Bhoalwater  Bay  Oysters. 

"Canst  thon  tell  how  an  oyster  makes  his  shell."    Acti 

I,  Scene  V. 

Schloss  Johannisberger,  1855. 

'  *  Ay,  every  inch  a  King. ' '    Act  IV,  Scene  VI. 


Consomme  Printanier. 
"With  harlooks,  hemlock,  nettles,  cuckoo-flowers, 


Louis  James  as  Calaban  in  "The  Tempest" 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    257 

Darnel,  and  all  the  idle  weeds,  that  grow 
In  our  sustaining  corn. ' '    Act  IV,  Scene  IV. 

Musigny  Vougeot,  1874. 
"Come,  Noble  Burgundy."    Act  I,  Scene  I. 


Crawfish  a  la  Bordelaise. 
"The  body's  delicate."    Act  III,  Scene  IV. 
Musigny  Vougeot,  1874. 
'Whose  influence,  like  the  wreath  of  radiant  fire 
On  flickering  Phoebus'  front." 


Terrapin  a  la  Maryland. 

'You  should  be  ruled  and  led  by  some  discretion.**  Act 

n.  Scene  III. 

Musigny  Vougeot,  1874. 

"Peace  be  with  Burgundy."    Act  I,  Scene  I. 


Sweetbreads  Perigueux, 

Asparagus  au  Gratin. 

"The  art  of  our  necessities  is  strange."    Act  m, 

Scene  III. 

Chauvenet,  Club  Imperial  Brut,  1884. 

'If  I  like  thee  no  worse  after  dinner,  I  will  not  part 

from  thee. ' '    Act  I,  Scene  IV. 


Roman  Punch. 

—"Tom's  a-cold."    Act  III,  Scene  IV. 

Saddle  of  Mutton.    Green  Peas. 

"Better  than  thou,  yourself."    Act  n,  Scene  I. 

Chauvenet,  Brut,  1884. 

'A  royal  nobleness; — I  must  embrace  thee."    Act  V, 

Scene  III. 


258  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Lettuce  Salad. 

"Striving  to  better,  oft  we  mar  what's  well."    Act  I, 

Scene  IV. 

Olives,  Celery,  Roquefort  and  Sierra  Cheese. 

"Whereof,  perchance,  these  are  but  furnishings."    Act 

III,  Scene  I. 


Omelette  Souffle. 

"Do  it  carefully."    Act  I,  Scene  I. 

Chateau  Yquem,  1885. 

"H^e  I  stand  your  slave."    Act  m.  Scene  IL 


Liqueurs,  Brandy,  Coffee. 

Cigars,  Cigarettes. 

"And  tell  old  tales  and  laugh."    Act  V,  Scene  II. 


"Fairies  and  gods  prosper  it  with  thee."    Act  IV, 
Scene  V. 

King  Lear  was  the  feature  for  the  balance  of 
the  current  and  the  following  seasons.  I  grew  to 
love  the  character  of  the  old  King,  and  greatly 
enjoyed  the  exhilaration  of  its  performance;  par- 
ticularly during  the  last  season  when  the  Fool 
was  played  by  my  son,  Earnest,  who  realized  to 
me  the  poet's  conception  of  that  much  misunder- 
stood character  and  gave  it  the  keen  satire,  the 
helpless  sympathy,  the  voluntary  suffering  and 
the  exquisite  tenderness  that  is  combined  in  the 
part. 

In  spite  of  the  appreciation  of  King  Lear,  I 
found  at  this  time  that  the  taste  of  the  general 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   259 

public  inclined  to  a  lighter  form  of  drama;  that 
modern  progress,  science  and  invention  necessi- 
tated new  methods,  not  only  of  dramatic  writing 
and  construction,  but  in  presentation.  That  ideals 
of  the  past  and  poetic  expression  must  give  way, 
if  not  entirely,  to  plays  of  contemporaneous  inter- 
est, at  least  to  a  more  direct  appeal  to  modern 
ideas.  That  metaphor  and  simile  must  be  re- 
placed by  language  more  simple  and  matter  of 
fact. 

I  found  the  polished  periods  of  the  writers  of 
the  early  part  of  the  last  century  received  with 
smiles  and  the  polysyllabic  exaggeration  in  the 
^J3lank  verse  of  the  still  earlier  dramatic  poets 
openly  laughed  at. 

The  age  of  materiality  was  approaching  and 
however  lofty  the  sentiment  or  intense  the  emo- 
tion, it  must  be  expressed  in  terms  that  could  be 
readily  understood  or  the  acting,  however  perfect, 
would  lose  much  of  its  effect. 

With  these  conditions  in  view,  I  approached  Mr. 
W.  D.  Eaton,  of  Chicago,  a  dramatic  writer  and  a 
master  of  modern  English,  to  write  for  me  or 
suggest  a  romantic  play  that  would  conform  to 
these  conditions. 

Romance  though  dormant  is  still  attractive,  but 
the  knight  errant  and  wandering  troubadour  must 
have  some  more  definite  purpose  than  moonlight 
serenades  and  random  chivalry.  Mr.  Eaton  sug- 
gested Benjamin  Disraeli's  story,  "The  Rise  of 
Iskander." 


260   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

I  reread  it  and  found  it  admirably  adapted  for 
dramatic  purposes.  Mr.  Eaton  completed  the 
adaptation  and  called  it  "Iskander."  I  gave  it 
an  elaborate  setting  and  rehearsed  it  carefully,  but 
a  series  of  unfortunate  circumstances  delayed  its 
production,  which  was  finally  made  at  Lancaster, 
Pa.,  on  October  14,  1897. 

The  part  of  Iskander,  Prince  of  Epirus,  seemed 
especially  suited  to  me;  the  supporting  cast  was 
excellent  and  included  William  Redmond,  a  fine 
impressive  actor;  Charles  D.  Herman,  my  leading 
man  for  many  years;  B.  W.  Wallace,  an  admirable 
comedian,  and  Miss  Beatrice  Lieb,  in  the  leading 
parts.    But  the  play  was  not  successful. 

Mr.  Eaton,  a  practical  student  of  the  drama  for 
many  years,  had  constructed  something  splendid 
that  appeared  to  me,  to  my  literary  and  profes- 
sional friends  and  to  all  of  the  company,  to  have 
every  essential  for  popular  interest.  Time,  money, 
research  and  study  had  been  lavishly  given  to  its 
accurate  and  effective  presentation.  A  very  effi- 
cient company  had  acted  their  parts  with  earnest- 
ness and  ability.  The  public  said  it  was  a  very 
good  play— but— ,  and  —but—  was  the  rock  on 
which  Iskander  was  wrecked.  It  was  another  in- 
stance of  the  fact  that  the  only  sure  test  of  the 
approval  of  a  play  is  a  public  performance. 

I  am  reminded  of  an  incident  reported  in  the 
experience  of  the  late  Mr.  A.  M.  Palmer,  when 
he  was  the  manager  of  the  Union  Square  Theatre, 
New  York.  He  had  produced  a  play  that  was  a 
flat  failure.    A  friend  said  to  him:  "I  am  sur- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   261 

prised  that  a  man  of  your  experience,  culture  and 
intelligence  should  have  accepted  such  a  play. 
Even  if  its  reading  interested  you,  surely  the  re- 
hearsals must  have  shown  you  how  worthless  it 
was."  To  which  Mr.  Palmer  replied:  "If  you  can 
find  me  a  human  being  who  can,  by  reading  a 
manuscript  play,  watching  or  taking  part  in  the 
rehearsals,  tell  me  positively  whether  it  will  be  a 
success  or  failure,  I  am  willing  to  guarantee  that 
individual  an  income  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  a 
year  as  long  as  I  remain  in  management." 

Had  I  been  wise  I  should  have  at  once  with- 
drawn the  play,  but  I  liked  the  part  of  Iskander, 
I  believed  the  piece  had  possibilities,  and  I  was 
loath  to  acknowledge  a  failure;  so  we  amended, 
curtailed,  reconstructed  and  patched  up  the  manu- 
script in  the  hope  of  final  success;  but  all  to  no 
purpose.  After  struggling  along  for  nearly  three 
months  I  was  compelled  to  close  the  season,  which 
I  did  in  Chicago,  and  having  no  material  in  re- 
serve, disbanded  the  company. 

During  the  period  of  inactivity  that  followed 
the  closing  of  Iskander,  I  remained  in  Chicago, 
staying  at  the  Auditorium  Hotel.  Joseph  Mur- 
phy, the  Irish  comedian,  was  a  guest  there  at  the 
same  time. 

Joe,  though  wealthy,  had  the  reputation  of  be- 
ing very  penurious,  but  I  found  him  an  entertain- 
ing pleasant  companion,  and  always  ready  to  meet 
his  share  of  the  evening's  entertainment.  He  had 
known  want  and  privation,  and  experience  had 


262   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

taught  him  prudence,  with  resulting  competence 
and  comfort. 

Angling  was  his  favorite  pastime.  A  five-ounce 
rod,  a  reel  and  a  book  of  flies  on  a  trout  stream 
was  the  height  of  his  enjoyment,  and  as  I  enjoyed 
the  same  sport  we  had  much  in  common. 

We  would  meet  in  the  smoking  room  in  the 
evening  and  exchange  experiences.  Mine  covered 
Great  Britain  principally,  but  Joe  had  travelled 
in  Australia  and  spent  much  time  in  California, 
in  fact  his  early  life  had  been  passed  in  that  state, 
'at  the  time  of  the  gold  excitement  in  the  earlyi 
fifties. 

By  trade,  Joseph  Murphy  was  a  blacksmith,  but 
he  could  sing  a  good  song,  dance  a  jig  and  play  the 
snare  drum,  three  accomplishments  that  induced 
him  to  say  farewell  to  the  anvil  and  join  an  itin- 
erant minstrel  show  that  was  in  want  of  attrac- 
tions. Joe  made  good  and  for  a  time  all  went 
well,  but  defections  from  the  company,  the  vary- 
ing fortunes  of  the  camps  and  lack  of  novelty 
brought  bad  business,  and  finally  dissolution;  un- 
til finally,  after  many  vicissitudes,  Joe  found  him- 
self in  Sacramento  without  an  engagement,  lodg- 
ing or  money  and  in  much  want  of  food. 

Dejectedly  walking  the  main  street  one  evening 
he  stopped  at  the  comer  where  the  Golden  Eagle 
Hotel  now  stands,  to  allow  a  rapidly  driven  car- 
riage to  pass.  Joe  was  close  to  the  curb,  and  in 
his 'weakened  condition  the  rapid  motion  of  the 
hack  caused  him  to  stagger  and  fall.  As  he  strug- 
gled to  his  feet,  his  right  hand  struck  a  coin;  he 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE  263 

grasped  it,  took  it  to  the  light  and  found  it  to  be 
a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece.  "When  I  realized  my 
good  fortune,"  said  Joe,  "then  and  there  I  swore 
I  would  never  again  be  without  a  dollar  as  long 
as  I  should  live,"  and  continued  he,  "I  never  have 
been." 

Joe's  first  investment  with  his  new-found  wealth 
was  a  meal;  the  best  a  restaurant  could  furnish— 
a  good  steak,  fried  potatoes  and  coffee,  rare 
luxuries  at  the  best  of  times,  but  to  that  hungry 
boy!  a  royal  feast. 

After  the  meal  came  a  bed  and  rest,  and,  oh! 
joy  unknown  for  so  long:  rest  on  a  full  stomach. 

Joe  took  a  bed  in  a  rooming  house;  but  after  so 
long  a  fast  his  weak  stomach  could  not  assimilate 
such  a  heavy  meal.  Sleep  would  not  come,  nor 
would  his  internal  discomfort  permit  him  to  lie 
down;  so  poor  Joe  had  to  walk  the  streets  again 
until  his  food  was  in  some  degree  digested. 

The  night  life  of  the  city  was  in  the  saloons 
and  gambling  houses,  located  on  the  street  by  the 
Bide  of  and  above  the  levee  of  the  Sacramento 
River,  whose  waters  rise  and  fall  with  the  tide. 

These  places  were  all  brilliantly  lighted  and 
usually  thronged  with  patrons.  Thither  Joe 
wended  his  way,  not  for  the  night  life  but  the  cool 
air  by  the  river  side. 

As  he  walked  along  the  levee  he  noticed,  what 
at  first  seemed  to  be  a  bundle  lying  half  submerged 
in  the  gently  rising  tide.  He  approached  and 
found  it  to  be  the  body  of  a  comparatively  well- 
dressed  man.    He  tried  to  drag  it  up  the  bank 


264  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

out  of  the  water,  but  his  strength  was  unequal  to 
the  task,  and  he  ran  to  the  nearest  saloon.  Aid 
was  quickly  found  and  the  apparently  lifeless  body 
was  carried  into  the  saloon. 

Restoratives  were  applied,  brandy  poured  into 
not  unwilling  lips,  the  body  roughly  shaken  and  it 
came  to  life,  opened  its  eyes  looked  round  with 
maudlin  indignation  and  demanded:  "Who  had 
dared  to  interrupt  his  slumbers?"  The  man  wa^ 
recognized.  His  weakness  was  well  known.  He 
was  taken  to  an  hotel,  put  to  bed,  carefully  tended 
through  a  resulting  illness  and  to  the  day  of  hia 
death  was,  I  believe,  unconscious  of  the  narrow 
escape  he  had  from  being  drowned,  or  of  the  name 
of  the  man  who  rescued  him  from  the  rising  tide 
of  the  Sacramento  River. 

Suspicion  was  easily  aroused,  judgment  hastily 
given  and  penalties  quickly  exacted  in  those  early 
days  in  California.  Joe  Murphy  was  at  first  sus- 
pected of  foul  play.  He  was  searched  and  the 
change  of  his  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  found  on 
him,  but  he  told  his  story  convincingly,  the  facts 
sustained  him  and  he  was  permitted  to  go  to  his 
bed  and  enjoy  the  long-deferred  rest  his  now  di- 
gested meal  allowed  him  to  take. 

The  foregoing  incident  related  to  me  by  Mr. 
Murphy  was  corroborated  by  a  gentleman  I  sub- 
sequently met  in  Sacramento,  then  the  Mayor  of 
the  city,  who  was  present  at  the  occurrence,  and 
the  name  of  the  man  who  was  rescued  from  the 
river  was  Edwin  Booth,  then  a  young  and  popular 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   265 

actor  in  the  mining  camps  and  subsequently  the 
leading  tragedian  of  the  American  stage. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  occurred  many, 
years  ago  in  a  new  country  where  youth  and 
strength  were  battling  for  fortune  and  its  exuber- 
ance was  unrestrained.  The  folly  of  youth  fre- 
quently develops  into  the  wisdom  of  manhood 
and  in  no  instance  is  this  better  exemplified  than 
in  the  case  of  Edwin  Booth,  whose  subsequent 
career  was  marked  by  a  complete  victory  over 
inherited  weakness,  a  dignified  manhood  and  an 
honorable  maturity. 

After  a  period  of  rest  and  recuperation  I  or- 
ganized a  company  with  Miss  Sarah  Truax  as 
leading  lady  and  with  the  old  plays:  Virginius, 
Ingomar  and  Damon  and  Pythias,  made  a 
pleasant  and  profitable  trip  to  the  Pacific  north- 
west, playing  a  number  of  small  cities  that  I  had 
not  before  visited. 

In  no  part  of  this  country  is  the  sentiment  of 
patriotism  more  sincere  than  in  the  great  states 
of  the  west,  but  the  words  of  our  national  hymns 
are  not  always  familiar. 

There  was  a  military  fort  at  Boise,  Idaho.  The 
troops  were  about  to  leave  for  Cuba,  war  with 
Spain  having  been  declared.  Several  of  the  offi- 
cers were  members  of  the  order  of  Elks.  It  was, 
arranged  by  the  Boise  City  Lodge  to  give  them  a, 
parting  entertainment.  I  was  selected  chairman 
of  the  occasion.  At  the  close  of  the  programme,  I 
called  on  all  present  to  stand  and  sing  the  national 
anthem.    There  rose  about  seventy  members  and 


266   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

gnests,  but  of  all  that  company  only  one  person 
in  the  room  knew  the  words  of  the  national  song, 
and  he  was  a  naturalized  citizen  of  German  birth; 
hence,  the  greater  part  of  the  anthem  was  a  solo 
with  a  strong  Teutonic  inflection,  but  the  con- 
cluding lines  a  full  voiced  chorus,  unmistakably 
American. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
Renewed  Association  with  an  Old  Comrade. 

Lincoln  A.  Wagenhals  and  Colin  Kemper  were 
young  actors  in  Augustin  Daly's  company.  They, 
were  ambitious  to  become  managers  and  producers 
of  worthy  plays.  They  pooled  their  resources  and 
became  partners.  Their  first  essay  in  manage- 
ment was  with  a  Lyceum  Play,  "Young  Mrs.  Win- 
throp";  later  they  undertook  the  management  of 
Louis  James  in  "A  Gentleman  from  France." 
They  were  successful  'and  desirous  of  enlarging 
their  operations.  They  designed  a  combination  of 
three  stars  in  standard  plays  and  selected  M'Ue 
Rhea,  Louis  James  and  myself  as  the  trio;  but  a, 
change  was  made  necessary  by  the  death  of  M'lle 
Rhea,  and  Miss  Katherine  Kidder  was  engaged, 
to  take  her  place;  so  the  "Triumvirate,"  as  we; 
were  called,  consisted  of  Louis  James,  Katherine 
Kidder  and  Frederick  Warde.  Mr.  Kemper  di- 
rected the  productions  of  the  plays  and  Mr. 
Wagenhals  attended  to  the  business  management. 

We  opened  our  season  at  New  Britain,  Conn.,, 
on  Sept.  14,  1898,  in  Sheridan's  comedy,  "The 
School  for  Scandal,"  with  the  following  cast  of, 
principals:— 

267 


268   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Sir  Peter  Teazle Mr.  Harry  Langdon 

Charles  Surface Mr.  Louis  James 

Joseph  Surface Mr.  Frederick  Wards 

Sir  Benjamin  Backbite Mr.  Colin  Kemper 

Sir  Oliver  Surface Mr.  Frank  Peters 

Careless Mr.  Norman  Hackett 

Crabtree   Mr.  Barry  Johnstone 

Mrs.  Candour Mrs.  Henry  Vandenhoff 

Maria Miss  Aphie  James 

Lady  Teazle Miss  Katherine  Kidder 

The  performance  of  the  old  comedy  was  admir- 
able; the  lines  were  given  with  a  clear  enunciation 
that  brought  out  the  pungent  wit  and  keen  satire 
of  the  author  to  the  full;  the  elegance  of  carriage 
was  well  sustained  and  the  traditional  business 
of  the  old  comedy  sufficiently  modified  by  Mr. 
Kemper's  direction,  was  given  with  marked  effect. 

Mr.  Kemper  had  designed  a  unique  and  effective 
scene  with  fluted  columns  and  curtains  of  figured 
silk  that  served  as  an  appropriate  setting  Tor  the 
comedy  and  preserved  the  atmosphere  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 

Mr.  James  revelled  in  the  light-hearted  gaiety 
of  Charles  Surface,  Mr.  Langdon  was  substan- 
tially impressive  as  Sir  Peter.  Mrs.  Vandenhoff 
brought  all  the  traditions  of  the  comedy  to  her 
performance  of  Mrs.  Candour,  while  Miss  Kath- 
erine Kidder  was  a  keenly  intelligent,  yet  withal 
elusively  charming  Lady  Teazle. 

In  such  company  it  was  a  positive  pleasure  to 
act  a  part  like  Joseph  Surface,  and  I  shared  in 
the  success  of  the  combination. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   269 

Mr.  James  and  myself  had  been  so  long  asso- 
ciated with  the  tragic  drama  that,  in  spite  of  the 
success  of  The  School  for  Scandal,  the  manage- 
ment deemed  it  advisable  to  present  a  repertoire 
in  the  large  cities,  so  Julius  Caesar,  Macbeth  and 
Othello  were  given,  and  later,  Hamlet. 

In  Julius  Caesar,  Mr.  James  played  Brutus,  one 
of  his  most  effective  parts,  I  played  Marc  Antony 
and  Barry  Johnstone  distinguished  himself  by 
an  admirable  performance  of  Cassius. 

It  is  a  long  step  from  the  sparkling  comedy  of 
Lady  Teazle  to  the  impressive  tragedy  of  Lady 
Macbeth;  but  Miss  Kidder  was  fully  equal  to  the 
task  and  gave  a  splendid  performance  of  that 
much  discussed  character. 

Mr.  James'  Hamlet  was  without  any  striking 
features  but  a  most  interesting  performance 
worthy  of  such  an  accomplished  actor. 

The  business  of  the  first  week  or  so  of  the  sea- 
son was  not  as  good  as  we  all  had  hoped,  but  it 
improved  rapidly  as  we  reached  the  south  and 
west  and  the  season  closed  with  a  very  handsome 
profit  for  Messrs.  Wagenhals  and  Kemper,  laying 
the  foundation  for  the  very  substantial  fortune 
these  gentlemen  finally  achieved  after  a  compara- 
tively brief  managerial  career  that  was  conspicu- 
ous for  self-respecting  enterprise,  business  acumen 
and  scrupulous  integrity. 

While  in  Denver,  Colorado,  I  made  an  address 
on  the  study  of  Shakespeare  to  the  faculty  and 
students  of  the  High  School.  On  the  following 
day  a  very  youthful  student  of  the  school  called 


270   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

on  me  and  expressed  a  desire  to  go  upon  the  stage. 
Such  applications  were  not  uncommon,  but  this 
applicant,  little  more  than  a  boy,  had  an  assurance 
and  persistence  in  spite  of  my  discouragement, 
that  attracted  me.  He  replied  frankly  to  all  of 
my  questions,  realized  the  gravity  of  the  step  he 
desired  to  take;  told  me  the  conditions  of  his  life 
and  referred  me  to  his  mother  for  confirmation. 

The  lady  called  on  me  the  next  day,  indorsed 
all  that  her  son  had  told  me,  approved  of  the 
boy's  ambitions  and  the  result  was  I  engaged  him 
for  my  company  for  the  following  season,  to  lead 
the  supernumeraries  and  to  play  such  small  parts 
as  his  capacity  and  appearance  would  permit. 

The  youth  was  of  rather  less  than  average 
height  but  of  athletic  build,  with  frank  attractive 
features  and  his  name  was  Douglas  Fairbanks. 

Douglas  remained  with  me  two  years  and  fully 
justified  his  ambition  to  become  an  actor.  His 
work  was  earnest  and  sincere,  his  personality 
agreeable  and  his  energy  and  ambition  unlimited. 

That  same  ambition  and  energy  has  character- 
ized his  subsequent  career  and  Douglas  Fairbanks 
is  probably,  to-day,  with  one  exception,  the  most 
popular  moving  picture  actor  in  the  world. 

Mr.  Espy  Williams,  of  New  Orleans,  had  writ- 
ten a  play  called  "A  Gentleman  of  France," 
which  Louis  James  had  produced  and  played  for  a 
season  with  considerable  success.  I  wanted  a 
new  play.  Mr.  Williams  suggested  an  adaptation 
from  Dumas'  novel  La  Dame  de  Monsereau.  I 
commissioned  him  to  make  the  adaptation  and 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   271 

the  result  was  a  very  excellent  romantic  comedy 
which  we  called  "The  Duke's  Jester."  Mr. 
Williams  had  closely  followed  the  story  of  the 
great  French  novelist  but  had  changed  the  locale 
from  France  to  Italy,  and  all  of  the  characters 
from  French  to  Italian.  Henri  the  Fourth  of 
France  became  the  Duke  of  Milan,  and  Chiquot  the 
King's  fool  was  Cecco,  the  jester  of  the  Duke. 

The  part  of  Cecco  gave  splendid  opportunities 
for  a  wide  range  of  expression  from  the  sardonic 
humor  of  the  court  jester  to  the  deep  emotions  of 
a  noble  passion  and  furnished  me,  in  one  brief 
scene,  with  the  novel  experience  of  wearing  female 
apparel. 

The  incident  was  essential  to  the  plot  and  some- 
what of  a  sensation,  but  was  quite  a  shock  to  many 
of  my  friends  who  had  only  seen  me  in  the  digni- 
fied manhood  of  the  Shakespearean  and  classic 
parts. 

"The  Duke's  Jester"  served  as  a  capital  vehicle 
for  two  successful  seasons  under  the  management 
of  Clarence  M.  Brune,  whose  wife,  Minnie  Tittel 
Brune,  acted  as  leading  lady. 

I  again  assumed  my  own  management  and  inau- 
gurated the  season  of  1901-2,  with  a  production  of 
a  new  Roman  tragedy  by  Miss  Verna  Woods,  of 
Sacramento,  California,  called  Horatius,  founded 
on  the  somewhat  legendary  story  of  the  rivalry  of 
the  Horatii  and  Curiatii. 

The  tragedy  was  admirably  written.  I  pro- 
duced it  with  every  care  and  attention  to  detail. 
It  was  acted  by  an  excellent  company  that  in- 


272   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

eluded  Charles  D.  Herman,  Barry  Johnstone, 
Francis  McGinn,  Antoinette  Ashton  and  Virginia 
Drew  Trescott,  but  it  failed  to  please.  I  withdrew 
it  after  a  few  performances  and  found  my  reper- 
toire of  King  Lear,  Virginius,  Julius  Caesar,  and 
The  Mountebank  still  attractive. 

In  May,  1902,  I  took  the  company  to  Honolulu, 
Hawaii,  and  played  for  three  weeks  at  the  Royal 
Hawaiian  Opera  House  in  that  city.  It  was  a 
lucrative  and  most  interesting  venture. 

The  island  of  Oahu  on  which  Honolulu  is  lo- 
cated, is  fitly  called  "The  Paradise  of  the  Pacific." 
The  city  itself  bowered  in  foliage  is  exquisitely 
beautiful,  nestling  at  the  feet  of  rugged  hills,  al- 
ways green  from  their  "Liquid  sunshine."  The 
island,  surrounded  by  the  blue  waters  of  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  is  indeed  a  veritable  emerald  set 
in  a  sapphire  sea. 

Life  in  Honolulu  passes  like  a  dream.  Every- 
thing is  done  leisurely.  The  morning  stroll,  the 
noon  siesta,  the  evening  concert  and  the  prome- 
nade lasting  into  the  cool  tropical  night. 

The  Royal  Hawaiian  Opera  House  is  a  compara- 
tively modem  theatre.  On  our  opening  night  it 
was  packed  with  the  elite  of  the  island,  both  native 
and  foreign.  The  gentlemen  in  evening  dress,  the 
ladies  in  elaborate  decollette  costume,  jewels 
gleaming  on  their  dusky  shoulders.  It  was  like  a 
grand  opera  audience  at  the  Metropolitan. 

We  gave  only  four  performances  a  week,  so  we 
had  leisure  to  see  the  many  attractions  of  the 


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Frederick  Warde   as   Timon   of   Athena 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   273 

island  and  enjoy  the  hospitality  that  was  so  gen- 
erously accorded  us. 

It  needs  a  far  more  eloquent  pen  than  mine  to 
do  justice  to  the  charm  of  the  Hawaiian  people, 
the  beauty  of  their  island  homes,  and  their  lavish 
hospitality.  My  visit  to  and  reception  in  Hono- 
lulu is  a  cherished  memory  that  is  shared  by  my 
wife  and  daughters,  who  accompanied  me  on  the 
trip,  and  that  memory  is  constantly  revived  by 
the  many  gifts  and  souvenirs  from  Hawaiian 
friends  that  have  a  permanent  place  in,  and  adorn, 
my  home. 

On  leaving  Honolulu,  the  Hawaiian  Lodge  of 
Elks  tendered  me  an  imposing  tribute  of  farewell. 
They  chartered  the  large  ocean-going  tug  of  the 
Harbor,  entwined  the  rigging  with  the  colors  of 
the  order,  purple  and  white,  engaged  the  Royal 
Hawaiian  Band  and  with  a  company  of  eighty, 
comprising  tlie  members  of  the  lodge  and  their 
families,  accompanied  our  departing  steamer  ten 
miles  to  sea. 

We  ourselves  were  garlanded  with  flowers,  the 
leis  (pronounced  lays)  wreathing  us  almost  to 
our  feet;  a  beautiful  national  custom  to  welcome 
and  bid  farewell  with  flowers. 

It  is  not  without  emotion  we  reached  the  part- 
ing of  the  ways.  The  lines  were  cast  off,  our  loyal 
friends  returned  to  their  island  home  and  our  own 
vessel  speeded  back  to  the  United  States  as  the 
melody  of  Auld  Lang  Syne  receded  in  the  violet 
haze  of  the  coming  twilight. 

On  our  return  to  San  Francisco,  we  played  a 


274   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

summer  season  of  several  weeks  at  the  California 
Theatre. 

While  I  was  playing  in  San  Francisco,  the  Bo- 
hemian Club  gave  a  Sunday  morning  breakfast  to 
Henry  M.  Stanley,  the  African  explorer.  He  had 
not  then  been  knighted.  I  was  a  guest.  The 
breakfast  was  scheduled  for  one  o'clock.  The 
arrangements  were  unique  and  characteristic,  as 
all  Bohemian  Club  functions  are.  The  table  was 
outlined  in  the  form  of  the  map  of  Africa,  the 
menus  hand  painted  by  artist  members  in  appro- 
priate designs.  The  guests  numbered  forty.  Mr. 
Stanley,  accompanied  by  Major  Pond,  his  lecture 
manager,  was  received  by  Captain  Macdonald,  the 
President  of  the  Club,  introduced  to  the  guests  and 
escorted  to  the  table. 

At  the  proper  time  the  President  proposed  the 
health  of  Mr.  Stanley.  It  was  enthusiastically 
acclaimed  by  the  company,  standing.  Mr.  Stan- 
ley, who  had  maintained  since  his  arrival  an  ex- 
pression of  boredom  and  weariness,  rose  to  reply 
and  in  a  perfunctory  tone  said  in  substance: 
*' Gentlemen,  thank  you  for  your  compliment.  I 
am  very  glad  to  meet  you — Thank  you,"  and  sat 
down. 

An  almost  audible  groan  came  from  the  assem- 
bled guests  and  for  a  moment  it  looked  as  if  our 
African  breakfast  would  be  a  fiasco:  but  Mr. 
James  D.  Phelan,  affectionately  known  in  the  club 
as  "Jimmy"  Phelan,  and  now  as  The  Honorable 
James  D.  Phelan,  United  States  Senator  from  Cal- 
ifornia, took  the  chair  and  command  of  the  situa- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   275 

tion,  and  in  a  short  time  eloquence,  wit,  humor 
and  music  restored  the  spirit  of  the  occasion. 

The  speakers  of  course  eulogized  our  chief 
guest,  but  the  last  one,  Uncle  George  Bromley,  the 
High  Priest  of  Bohemia  and  the  best  loved  mem- 
ber of  the  club,  had  a  grievance.  He  had  formerly 
been  a  sea  captain  and  he  complained  that  the  club 
had  failed  to  recognize  him  as  an  African  explorer, 
and  related  several  incidents  that  he  claimed  en- 
titled him  to  that  honor.  It  was  a  humorous 
speech  not  entirely  free  from  satire  and  it  kept  the 
company  in  roars  of  laughter. 

Mr.  Stanley  had  been  listening  with  gradually 
awakening  interest  to  the  proceedings,  and  at  the 
conclusion  of  Uncle  George's  address  asked  per- 
mission from  the  chairman  to  speak.  It  was  read- 
ily given.  After  apologizing  for  his  early  indif- 
ference, which  he  ascribed  to  a  misconception  of 
the  character  of  the  club  and  its  membership,  he 
entertained  us  for  nearly  an  hour  with  an  interest- 
ing account  of  his  travels,  related  many  unpub- 
lished adventures  and  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
occasion  with  a  zest  that  completely  reinstated 
him  in  the  admiration  and  esteem  of  the  company. 

He  inspected  the  club  library,  inscribed  his  name 
in  several  of  his  books  and  heartily  accepted  an  in- 
vitation to  an  impromptu  Bohemian  dinner  at  the 
Cliff  House. 

A  messenger  was  sent  to  that  famous  resort  with 
the  necessary  instructions,  ten  carriages  were  or- 
dered for  our  transportation  and  a  memorable  oc- 
casion closed  with  a  dinner  where  wit,  wisdom  and 


276   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

conviviality  brightened  the  passing  hours  and 
ushered  in  a  new  day  in  the  calendar. 

At  the  close  of  our  San  Francisco  engagement  I 
came  East  to  appear  again  under  the  management 
of  Wagenhals  and  Kemper  in  an  elaborate  produc- 
tion of  "The  Tempest,"  and  to  resume  association 
with  my  old  comrade  Louis  James. 

**The  Tempest"  was  a  very  beautiful  production 
with  many  novel  and  artistic  effects  conceived  and 
directed  by  Mr.  Kemper.  The  company  was  a  re- 
markably good  one  and  the  performance  gave  the 
greatest  pleasure  and  satisfaction. 

As  a  matter  of  interest  and  record  I  append  the 
cast  of  the  principal  characters: 

Prospero Mr.  Frederick  Warde 

Caliban Mr.  Louis  James 

Ferdinand Mr.  Norman  Hackett 

Stephano Mr.  Wadsworth  Harris 

Trinculo Mr.  Thomas  Coffin  Cook 

Miranda Miss  Teresa  Maxwell 

Ariel Miss  Edith  Fassett 

Our  first  performance  of  The  Tempest  was 
given  at  Lansing,  Mich.,  on  September  1,  1902. 

Mr.  James'  Caliban  was  a  wonderful  piece  of 
acting,  and  his  make-up  as  half  beast,  half  man, 
effective  in  the  extreme. 

Prospero  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  present  the 
dignified  figure  of  a  loving  father  and  a  noble  na- 
ture serenely  conscious  of  integrity  with  the  power 
that  knowledge  and  experience  gives  over  the  de- 
based and  ignorant. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OP  MAKE-BELIEVE   277 

Miss  Teresa  Maxwell  was  beautiful  and  tender 
as  Miranda,  Wadsworth  Harris  gave  amusing 
prominence  to  Stephano,  the  drunken  butler,  and 
Mr.  Cook  effectively  rendered  the  vapid  folly  of 
the  "Pied-ninny"  Trinculo. 

Our  season  with  "The  Tempest"  lasted  thirty- 
seven  weeks.  We  crossed  the  continent  four 
times  and  our  travelling  approximated  no  less 
than  thirty  thousand  miles. 

Unfortunately  I  contracted  a  cold  in  California 
that  threatened  pneumonia,  and  for  practically  the 
first  time  in  my  career,  was  unable  to  play.  I 
then  realized  the  distress  of  being  confined  to  my 
bed  in  helpless  restraint  while  the  company  pro- 
ceeded on  its  way.  My  recovery,  however,  was 
rapid.  Mr.  Wadsworth  Harris  played  Prosper© 
for  a  few  days  and  I  then  resumed  the  part. 

A  new  play  by  Rupert  Hughes  and  Colin  Kem- 
per entitled  "Alexander  the  Great,"  was  the  fea- 
ture of  the  season  1903-4.  It  was  a  classic 
tragedy,  picturesque  and  full  of  incident,  written 
in  modern  prose. 

Mr.  James  played  Alexander,  I  was  the  Perdicus 
and  Miss  Margaret  Bourne  the  leading  lady.  The 
company  was  practically  the  same  as  the  preced- 
ing season. 

Accustomed  as  we  were  to  the  blank  verse  of 
Shakespearean  plays  we  had  some  difficulty  in  har- 
monizing the  dignity  and  bearing  of  the  great 
characters  of  antiquity  with  the  modern  colloquial 
language  in  which  Alexander  was  written,  but  we 


278   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

finally  overcame  it.  The  play  was  interesting  but 
achieved  no  permanent  success. 

Later  in  the  season  Miss  Alma  Cruger  replaced 
Miss  Bourne  as  leading  lady,  and  Othello  and 
Macbeth  were  given  in  conjunction  with  the  new 
play. 

A  humorous  incident  occurred  during  a  per- 
formance of  Alexander.  A  very  beautiful  effect 
was  produced  by  the  curtain  rising  on  a  mountain- 
ous scene  in  a  heavy  snow  storm.  The  effect  of 
falling  snow  was  obtained  by  means  of  a  mechan- 
ical contrivance,  revolving  like  a  moving  picture 
camera  in  the  front  of  the  house,  and  reflected  on 
the  scene.  It  was  usually  very  effective;  but  one 
evening  the  operator  reversed  his  cylinder.  The 
result  was  that  the  snow  appeared  to  be  rising 
from  the  earth  instead  of  falling  from  the  clouds. 
The  error  was  soon  discovered  and  remedied  but 
not  before  it  had  caused  the  actors  some  embar- 
rassment and  furnished  considerable  amusement 
for  the  audience. 

Wagenhals  and  Kemper  had  purchased  a  pic- 
turesque tragedy  of  ancient  Carthage,  by  Stanis- 
laus Stange,  called  "Salambo."  It  had  been 
played  by  Miss  Blanche  Walsh  and  Charles  Dalton 
in  New  York  with  considerable  success.  The  man- 
agers thought  the  principal  parts  were  admirably 
suited  to  Miss  Katherine  Kidder  and  myself,  so, 
Mr.  James  having  made  other  arrangements,  they 
engaged  us  for  a  joint  starring  tour,  with  Salambo 
as  the  prominent  dramatic  feature. 

Mr.  Kemper  gave  the  play  an  elaborate  spectac- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   279 

ular  setting,  the  company  was  excellent  and  both 
Miss  Kidder  as  Salambo,  and  myself  as  Matho,  the 
barbarian,  were  successful  in  our  respective  char- 
acters. 

Matho  was  a  very  effective  part,  somewhat  like 
Ingomar  in  his  general  characteristics,  but  infi- 
nitely more  strenuous.  In  the  final  catastrophe,  I 
had  to  die  at  the  summit  of  quite  a  high  flight  of 
steps  and  roll  down  to  the  stage,  near  the  foot- 
lights. I  found  this  to  be  quite  an  acrobatic  feat; 
however,  I  accomplished  it,  but  at  the  price  of 
many  abrasions  of  my  elbows  and  knees  and  much 
application  of  arnica  and  court  plaster. 

We  opened  our  season  quite  early  (August  20th) 
and  practically  traversed  the  entire  country  from 
New  York  to  California  and  from  Northern  Mich- 
igan to  Texas. 

During  a  former  season.  Miss  Kidder  had  been 
very  successful  in  the  dual  parts  of  Hermione  and 
Perdita,  in  "The  Winter's  Tale."  She  was  anx- 
ious to  repeat  the  performance.  It  was  an  oppor- 
tunity for  me  to  play  Leontes,  a  part  in  which  I 
had  never  appeared,  and  I  welcomed  it.  Mr.  Kem- 
per directed  the  production  with  excellent  taste, 
the  cast  was  adequate  and  the  performance  of  the 
play  admirable. 

Miss  Kidder  fully  justified  her  ambition;  she 
gave  a  delicate  charm  and  sweetness  to  both  parts 
with  a  striking  contrast  of  characterization. 
Wadsworth  Harris  was  a  fine  Polixines,  and 
Thomas  CoflSn  Cook  brought  out  the  comedy  of 


280   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Autolvcus,  that  "Snapper-up  of  unconsidered 
trifles.*' 

I  received  many  compliments  from  the  press  for 
my  Leontes,  but  I  was  not  satisfied  with  my  per- 
formance. Othello's  jealousy  is  aroused  by  the 
cunning  suggestions  of  lago,  who  produces  some 
evidence  to  justify  them,  but  in  the  case  of  Leon- 
tes, his  jealousy  is  not  only  groundless  but  abso- 
lutely without  reason;  it  is  not  only  injustice  but 
folly  bordering  on  insanity,  and  I  found  great  dif- 
ficulty in  presenting  these  phases  of  the  character 
satisfactorily  to  myself. 

For  some  seasons  past  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
delivering  addresses  and  lectures  on  the  study  of 
Shakespeare  to  the  High  and  Public  Schools  of  the 
various  cities  I  visited.  These  lectures  had  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  Lyceum  and  Chautau- 
qua managers,  and  I  received  a  very  flattering 
offer  from  an  important  Bureau  to  appear  on  the 
public  lecture  platform  for  a  season. 

I  had  noted  for  some  time  a  diminishing  patron- 
age for  dramatic  representations  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  on  the  stage  and  an  increasing  interest  in 
their  study  and  analysis  in  our  schools  and  literary 
societies. 

I  was  very  reluctant  to  leave  the  stage  that  for 
nearly  forty  years  had  been  the  sphere  of  my  ac- 
tive life,  but  Wagenhals  and  Kemper  had  decided 
to  produce  modem  plays.  I  did  not  feel  justified  in 
assuming  the  responsibilities  of  management  and 
production;  so  I  accepted  the  proposition  that 
would  still  keep  me  before  the  public,  if  not  by  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   281 

impersonation  of  Shakespeare's  characters,  at 
least  by  the  exploitation  and  discussion  of  his 
plays. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Chautauqua  and  Lyceum  Platforms. 

My  first  experience  on  the  public  lecture  plat- 
form was  a  summer  of  Chautauqua  work. 

Few  people  who  reside  in  the  larger  cities  of  the 
country  have  any  idea  of  the  institution  of  Chau- 
tauqua, but  it  is  welcomed  as  an  attractive  factor 
of  entertainment  and  instruction  by  those  who 
live  in  small  communities.  It  gives  them  an  op- 
portunity to  see  and  hear  men  and  women  of  na- 
tional and  international  reputation  in  the  world  of 
education,  thought  and  achievement,  to  hear  great 
music  and  to  be  entertained  by  eminent  artists 
that  only  such  an  institution  could  bring  to  them, 
and  at  a  trifling  cost. 

Chautauqua  meetings  continue  from  three  days 
to  two  weeks  according  to  the  size  of  the  com- 
munity. The  meetings  are  usually  held  in  a  pa- 
vilion, some  of  them  permanent  buildings  specially 
constructed  for  the  purpose,  and  at  other  times  in 
large  tents.  The  meetings  are  in  the  hands  of  a 
committee  of  local  residents  and  the  lectures  and 
other  entertainments  are  under  the  direction  of  a 
platform  manager. 

.   The  entire  proceedings  are  informal.   There  are 
no  reserved  seats.    The  audiences,  as  a  rule,  are 

282 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    283 

quite  large  and  very  attentive.  They  go  and  come 
at  will,  and  many  remain  at  the  termination  of  the 
lecture  to  chat  with  the  speaker  and  extend  to  him 
their  hospitality. 

Chautauqua  meetings  are  non-sectarian  and 
local  churchmen  are  generally  very  active  in  the 
work. 

At  Lincoln,  Nebraska,  there  is  quite  an  impor- 
tant annual  Chautauqua  gathering.  On  a  Sunday 
evening  I  was  delivering  an  address  called 
"Shakespeare,  Apostle  of  Christianity."  An  au- 
dience of  more  than  three  thousand  persons  was 
before  me.  Behind  me,  on  the  platform,  was 
seated  a  semicircle  of  local  and  visiting  clergy- 
men. I  could  feel  their  attention  and  interest  in 
my  subject,  but  as  I  made  my  arguments  and 
quoted  various  passages  from  the  plays  to  support 
my  premise,  I  was  startled  to  hear  at  intervals, 
voices  behind  me  saying:  "Amen,  Amen." 

I  was  considerably  embarrassed  at  first,  but 
finally  grev/  accustomed  to  it.  My  entire  address 
was  punctuated,  at  the  conclusion  of  every  period, 
with  the  Hebrew  endorsement:    "Amen,  Amen." 

Chautauqua  committees  are  very  proud  of  their 
"Talent,"  that  is  the  technical  term  for  their  at- 
tractions, but  they  are  not  always  familiar  with 
their  personality.  At  the  Chautauqua  at  Bartle- 
ville,  Oklahoma,  the  chairman  of  the  committee 
introduced  me  to  the  audience.  He  spoke  of  my 
reputation  as  an  actor,  an  orator,  a  man,  and  eulo- 
gized me  from  every  point  of  view,  concluding  his 
panegyric  with:    "I  now  have  the  extreme  pleas- 


284  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

ure  of  introducing  you  to ' '  and  turning  to  me 

asked,  sotto  voce,  "What  name,  please?" 

My  Chautauqua  trip  was  delightful.  The  travel 
was  constant  but  it  was  summer-time  and  the 
country  was  beautiful. 

My  experience  was  a  revelation  of  an  institu- 
tion and  a  form  of  instruction  and  entertainment 
I  had  never  before  conceived.  I  was  brought  into 
contact  and  association  with  many  men  of  learn- 
ing and  broad  constructive  views  of  life.  I  had 
met  and  come  into  closer  touch  with  truly  Amer- 
ican audiences  than  ever  before. 

I  had  visited  the  homes  and  enjoyed  the  hospi- 
tality of  scores  of  people  to  whom  I  was  hitherto 
unknown,  and  I  had  enriched  myself  with  many 
friendships  founded  on  mutual  appreciation  and 
esteem  that  compensated  my  itinerancy  and  sweet- 
ened its  memory. 

Travel  during  the  fall  and  winter  season  to 
fill  engagements  on  Lyceum  lecture  courses  was 
quite  strenuous.  In  arranging  a  lecture  tour  the 
Bureaus  do  not  make  a  consecutive  route,  or  con- 
sider the  length  of  the  journey;  the  only  point  is, 
Can  the  lecturer  get  there  in  time  to  keep  his  en- 
gagement? 

In  consequence  some  of  the  journeys  were  very 
long,  and  frequently  included  road,  river  and  rail. 

Many  towns  were  on  small  branching  lines,  the 
running  schedule  being:  One  round  trip  a  day  with 
stops  to  suit  the  passengers.  At  times  a  freight 
train  was  my  only  means  of  transportation,  and  I 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    285 

became  quite  as  much  at  home  in  a  caboose  as  in 
a  Pullman  car. 

Gross  country  trips  in  an  automobile,  at  night 
after  the  lecture,  to  catch  a  passing  train  at  some 
distant  point,  were  not  unusual,  and  on  more  than 
one  occasion  an  honest  old  horse  and  buggy  have 
carried  me  to  my  destination. 

I  especially  recall  one  journey  in  Texas  which  I 
will  endeavor  to  describe. 

"How  is  the  I.  and  G.  N.  south?"  I  inquired  of 
the  station  agent  at  Heame. 

"Why,  Mr.  Warde,  what  are  you  doing  here? 
Where's  your  company?  Not  actin'?  Lecturin'! 
Well,  I  swan!  Quit  the  stage,  hev  ye?  Where  be 
ye  goin'  to  lectur  to-night?  Cameron?"  came  in 
rapid  succession  from  the  agent  who  happened  to 
recognize  me. 

"Well,  ye  won't  get  there  to-night  if  ye  go  by 
rail:  the  train's  bulletined  three  hours  late,  but  be- 
tween you  and  me  it 's— indefinite. "  "  Can  I  get  a 
special?"  I  inquired.  "I  reckon  not,"  said  the 
agent.  '  *  We  're  mighty  short  on  rolling  stock  just 
now;  and  there  ain't  a  spare  engine  nigher  than 
Palestine." 

"Is  there  no  means  by  which  I  can  reach  Cam- 
eron by  eight  o'clock?"  I  asked.  "Not  as  I  know 
on,"  said  he,  "unless  ye  drive  over."  "How  far 
is  it?"  "Well,  it's  thirty  miles  by  rail,  but  it 
may  be  a  little  shorter  by  road."  *  'Is  there  a  liv- 
ery handy?"  '  'Well,  there's  Bill  Dickson,  he's  got 
some  rigs;  ye '11  find  him  on  the  platform.  I  guess 
he  'U  take  ye  over. "    "  How  long  will  it  take  to  get 


286   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

there?"  "Well,  a  fair  team  ought  to  make  seven 
miles  an  hour— it's  nigh  on  to  three  o'clock  now. 
I  reckon  he  can  get  yer  there  by  seven  or  half  past. 
I  guess,  though,  the  roads  are  a  little  bit  heavy; 
it's  been  rainin'  some  both  last  night  and  this 
momin'." 

I  found  "Bill"  Dickson:  a  good-natured  mu- 
latto, who  undertook  to  have  a  team  ready  in 
twenty  minutes  and  to  get  me  to  Cameron  by  eight 
o'clock,  sure.  I  telegraphed  the  local  Committee 
and  waited  for  the  team. 

"Bill"  Dickson  kept  his  word.  The  team  ar- 
rived at  the  time  promised.  A  strong,  neat  little 
buggy,  but  a  pair  of  ill-assorted,  scraggy  little  po- 
nies that  looked  as  if  they  would  blow  away  in  a 
strong  wind. 

"Those  poor  brutes  will  never  make  that  jour- 
ney," I  said.  "Oh,  yes,  they  will,"  replied  Dick- 
son. "We  can't  use  those  big  fat  horses  here  that 
you  have  up  north.  Them  ponies  may  not  be 
much  to  look  at,  but  they  are  good  'uns  to  go." 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  accept  his  assur- 
ance though  I  was  not  convinced  and  had  very  lit- 
tle confidence  in  reaching  my  destination  in  time 
for  my  lecture,  for  by  this  time  it  was  nearly  half 
past  three  o'clock  and  we  had  twenty-eight  miles 
to  drive  through  the  "Black  wax"  roads  of  the 
Brazos  bottoms. 

I  climbed  into  the  buggy  and  the  ponies  started 
off  at  a  good  gait.  Then  I  looked  at  my  driver. 
A  more  unique  and  characteristic  figure  of  his  race 
I  had  never  seen.    He  was  a  coal  black  negro, 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   287 

spare  but  muscular,  with  a  deeply  furrowed  face, 
a  bald  head,  and  a  fringe  of  ragged,  gray  kinky 
whiskers.  He  wore  neither  shirt,  coat  nor  hat; 
just  a  ragged  vest  and  an  undershirt  with  the 
sleeves  torn  off  above  the  elbows,  showing  his  bare 
forearms  which  shone  like  polished  mahogany. 

He  drove  well:  he  didn't  use  a  whip  but  just 
talked  to  the  horses  as  if  they  were  human  beings, 
called  each  horse  by  name,  and  encouraged,  ad- 
monished, approved  or  reproached  them  as  cir- 
cumstances demanded.  They  seemed  to  under- 
stand every  word  he  said  and  responded  promptly 
to  his  voice. 

By  this  time  I  had  gained  a  little  confidence  and 
got  into  conversation  with  my  driver. 

He  told  me  his  name  was  Antony  Organ;  that  he 
had  been  in  Texas  thirty-five  years,  was  seventy- 
two  years  of  age  and  was  born  a  slave,  on  a  plan- 
tation in  the  state  of  Mississippi.  He  had  been 
happy  as  a  slave,  had  a  good  master  who  didn't 
work  him  at  night  or  on  Sundays— which  appeared 
to  be  the  criterion  by  which  masters  were  judged. 

His  comments  and  views  on  existing  conditions 
and  current  events  were  most  interesting,  showing 
evidence  of  close  observation  and  sound  common 
sense,  coupled  with  an  uniqueness  of  expression, 
impossible  to  set  down  in  type. 

The  satisfaction  of  starting  and  the  interesting 
driver  made  the  first  few  miles  pass  pleasantly, 
but  we  were  getting  further  from  town  and  the 
mud  was  pretty  bad.  Our  wheels  were  one  solid 
mass  of  thick  waxy  soil,  like  the  wheels  of  an  an- 


288   FIFTY  YEARS  OP  MAKE-BELIEVE 

cient  Roman  chariot,  but  beneath  the  surface  mud 
of  the  road  the  long  preceding  drought  had  formed 
a  solid  foundation  into  which  the  moisture  had  not 
penetrated,  so,  with  the  exception  of  being  well 
bespattered,  we  suffered  little  inconvenience. 

We  were  now  in  the  Brazos  bottoms;  one  of  the 
most  fertile  cotton  growing  districts  in  the  world. 
On  either  side  were  vast  fields  of  the  long  staple, 
the  last  pickings  still  on  the  plants.  Rich  green 
foliage  marked  the  course  of  the  river,  while  the 
deep  crimson  of  the  now  declining  sun  made  a 
combination  of  landscape  and  color  that  gave  sig- 
nificant beauty  to  the  close  of  an  autumn  day. 

We  passed  a  few  white  men  on  horseback,  who 
nodded  to  us  good-naturedly,  and  several  vehicles 
driven  by  colored  men  who  all  greeted  my  driver 
respectfully  and  addressed  him  as  "Mister"  Or- 
gan, which  apparently  pleased  him  greatly. 

We  reached  and  crossed  the  Little  Brazos,  then 
our  way  lay  through  the  fiat  level  of  more  bottom 
land  till  we  came  to  the  Big  Brazos,  a  broad  yel- 
low stream,  on  the  far  side  of  which  rose  a  wall  of 
red  and  ochre  sandstone;  and  we  had  accomplished 
about  one-third  of  our  journey. 

The  country  began  to  rise  now  and  the  soil  be- 
ing hard  and  the  sand  tightly  packed,  we  got  along 
famously.  Mister  Organ  chirped  to  his  horses  and 
assured  me  that  he  would  get  me  to  Cameron  by 
half -past  seven— "If  nothing  broke." 

The  possibility  of  such  a  calamity  alarmed  me 
somewhat,  but  we  were  making  very  good  time  and 
I  speedily  forgot  it.    The  air  was  cool  and  brae- 


Frederick    Warde    as   Fray    Junipero    Serra,    Founder    of    the 
Missions.     In  the  "Mission  Play" 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   289 

ing,  the  kaleidoscopic  changes  of  light  and  color 
in  the  landscape,  now  deepening  with  the  gather- 
ing shadows  of  evening,  was  pleasant  and  soothing 
to  the  senses  and  it  was  only  the  constant  urging 
of  the  horses  by  Mister  Organ  that  kept  me  alert 
to  the  conditions  and  possibilities  of  the  time. 

Now  through  scrub  oak  woods,  then  in  the  open 
with  a  cabin  and  a  small  patch  of  cotton,  at  inter- 
vals, then  more  woods  and  we  began  to  descend 
again  into  the  bottoms  and  black  land. 

My  lunch  had  been  scanty.  I  began  to  feel  hun- 
gry. I  asked  if  it  were  possible  to  obtain  a  cup  of 
coffee  or  a  glass  of  milk  at  any  wayside  place,  but 
Mister  Organ  emphatically  informed  me:  "Dar 
ain't  nothin'  like  dat  to  be  gotten  round  yere." 

The  road  now  began  to  get  heavy  again  and  the 
horses  to  show  marked  signs  of  fatigue.  Dark- 
ness had  fallen.  There  was  no  moon,  but  a  few 
stars,  and  our  only  means  of  keeping  in  the  road 
was  to  watch  the  black  streak  between  the  long 
dried  grass  that  grew  on  either  side  and  had  been 
blanched  from  its  natural  color  to  a  light  gray  by 
the  weather. 

The  strain  on  the  horses  was  very  severe  and  we 
had  frequently  to  stop  and  rest  them.  A  man  on 
horseback  appeared  out  of  the  darkness.  We 
eagerly  inquired  the  distance  to  Cameron.  "Oh, 
about  five  miles,"  he  replied.  This  encouraged 
us  and  we  urged  the  horses  to  another  effort.  I 
had  lost  all  sense  of  time  and  had  purposely  re- 
frained from  lighting  a  match  and  consulting  my 
watch,  fearing  my  engagement  was  already  lost, 


290   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

but  now  I  did  so  and  found  it  wanted  a  quarter  to 
eight  o'clock. 

Startled  by  an  exclamation  from  Mister  Organ: 
"Look  thar,  boss,"  I  looked  up  and  there  on  a  rise 
in  the  distance  I  saw  a  dim  light.  "Dar's  the 
town!"  exclaimed  my  driver,  "we'll  get  dar  yit!" 

My  spirits  rose,  and  I  offered  Mister  Organ  my 
sole  remaining  cigar.  He  didn't  smoke;  so,  with 
great  satisfaction  I  lit  it  myself  and  was  enjoying 
the  fragrance  of  the  first  puff,  when,  as  the  horses 
made  an  extra  effort  to  get  through  a  particularly 
bad  place,  something  snapped,  and  we  came  to  a 
dead  stop. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  I  asked  of  Mister  Organ, 
who  had  descended  as  rapidly  as  his  age  would 
permit.  "The  trace  done  broke,  boss,"  he  said. 
"Good  Heavens,  that  does  settle  the  matter! ' '  I  ex- 
claimed. "No,  it  don't,  boss,"  replied  he,  "I'll 
git  you  thar  yit.  Git  me  dat  dar  hitchin'  rope 
from  under  dat  seat."  I  groped  around,  found  it 
and  handed  it  to  him.  Skillfully  he  substituted 
the  rope  for  the  trace,  fastened  it  firmly  to  the  col- 
lar and  the  buggy,  and  we  were  on  our  way  once 
more. 

The  delay  in  replacing  the  trace  had  taken  some 
ten  minutes,  but  had  given  the  horses  a  rest,  so  we 
started  off  well  and  shortly  found  ourselves  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  town.  "Whar  shall  I  drive  ye 
to?"  asked  Mister  Organ.  "To  the  Public 
Square,"  I  replied.  Scarcely  a  light  was  to  be 
seen  there  and  not  a  soul  to  give  any  information. 
"Drive  to  any  building  that  shows  a  light,"  I  said. 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE  291 

He  drove  round  the  Square  and  in  the  extreme  op- 
posite comer  were  two  dimly  lighted  lamps.  It 
was  the  Opera  House. 

Two  gentlemen,  both  wearing  white  ties,  were 
standing  at  the  door,  peering  anxiously  into  the 
gloom.  "Where  is  Mr.  Warde  to  lecture  to- 
night?" I  asked.  ''Here  we  are  waiting  for  him,'* 
one  of  them  replied.  "Well,  here  I  am,"  I  said, 
and— no— I  did  not  leap  from  the  buggy.  I  de- 
scended slowly  and  painfully.  My  limbs  had  been 
cramped  in  practically  one  position  for  nearly  six 
hours,  and  but  for  assistance  I  should  have  fallen. 

"What  is  the  time?"  I  asked.  "A  quarter  to 
nine.  We  have  been  waiting  for  you  since  eight 
o'clock."  "Well,  give  me  five  minutes  more  and 
I  will  be  ready." 

There  was  a  hotel  next  door  to  the  Opera  House, 
so  I  dismissed  Mister  Organ  with  cordial  thanks 
and  a  substantial  reward,  and  entered  the  hotel. 
Could  I  get  a  cup  of  coffee?  No!  A  glass  of 
milk?  No!  A  glass  of  water?  "There's  the 
bucket  and  dipper;  help  yourself."  I  did,  and 
sluiced  my  face  and  hands  as  well;  then  in  my 
travelling  clothes  thickly  bespattered  with  the 
mud  of  the  Brazos  bottoms,  I  went  on  the  platform 
and  for  nearly  two  hours,  to  a  surprisingly  large 
and  very  attentive  audience,  I  discussed  the  plays 
of  Shakespeare,  and  forgot  my  hunger  and  fatigue. 

It  was  an  interesting  experience  that  I  hope  I 
may  not  be  called  upon  to  repeat;  but,  if  I  am,  I 
could  wish  for  no  more  loyal  entertaining  guide 


292   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

and  companion  than  Mister  Organ,  who  "got  me 
dar"  even  when  "the  trace  done  broke." 

In  Greeley,  Colorado,  I  lectured  in  the  Opera 
House.  At  the  back  of  the  stage  was  a  large 
double  door  for  the  admission  of  scenery  and  bag- 
gage. Near  this  door,  a  donkey,  or,  as  they  are 
called  in  Colorado,  a  burro,  had  been  tethered.  I 
was  in  about  the  middle  of  my  address,  and  with 
some  emphasis  said:— "I  am  about  to  make  an  as- 
sertion.   It  may  surprise  you,  but  with  me  it  is  a 

conviction;  and  that  is "    At  this  instant  the 

burro  let  out  a  loud  bray— He  Haw!  He  Haw!  He 
Haw!— that  was  heard  as  distinctly  by  the  audi- 
ence as  if  the  animal  had  been  on  the  platform.  It 
commenced  f  ortissiiiio  and  continued  in  a  diminu- 
endo to  its  conclusion.  Of  course,  the  audience 
laughed  uproariously. 

I  tried  to  counteract  the  effect  of  the  interrup- 
tion by  a  quotation  from  The  Hunchback— 
**  'Twas  Clifford's  voice  if  ever  Clifford  spoke," 
but  the  audience  was  not  familiar  with  that  old 
play,  and  it  fell  flat.  I  proceeded  with  my  lecture, 
but  without  making  any  impression,  and  I  greatly 
fear,  the  voice  of  the  burro  will  be  remembered 
when  mine  has  been  forgotten. 

During  the  five  years  I  remained  upon  the  lec- 
ture platform,  I  visited  many  of  the  State  and 
other  Universities,  and  lectured  to  the  faculty  and 
students,  notably:  the  Universities  of  California, 
Oregon,  Washington,  Illinois,  Kansas,  Virginia, 
North  Carolina,  Georgia,  Alabama,  Florida,  Lou- 
isiana and  Arkansas.    Also  Cornell,  at  Ithaca, 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   293 

N.  Y.;  Leland  Stanford,  at  Palo  Alto,  California; 
Notre  Dame,  Indiana;  Georgetown,  D.  C,  and 
Suannee,  in  the  Cumberland  mountains  of  Ten- 
nessee. 

It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  find  so  much  in- 
terest taken  in  the  drama,  not  only  from  an  educa- 
tional point  of  view,  but  as  an  important  factor  in 
the  study  of  the  problems  of  life. 

Shakespeare  was,  of  course,  included  in  the 
study  of  literature,  and  I  was  very  proud  to  know 
that  many  thoughts  and  views  that  I  had  ex- 
pressed in  my  lectures  were  accepted  and  adopted 
by  many  professors  in  that  department  of  study. 

My  theory  has  ever  been,  and  is,  that  Shake- 
speare wrote  his  plays  to  be  acted  on  a  stage,  and 
for  that  purpose  only.  That  the  intent  and  mean- 
ing of  his  words  is  perfectly  plain;  except  in  some 
isolated  instances  where  the  language  of  the  time 
in  which  he  wrote  is  unfamiliar  to  modern  readers, 
and  that  their  profundity  exists  only  in  the  minds 
of  misdirected  students. 

My  endeavor  has  been  to  point  out  the  simplic- 
ity and  beauty  of  the  poet's  works,  his  human 
philosophy  and  his  fidelity  to  nature.  I  am  happy 
to  think  I  have  in  some  measure  succeeded. 

Among  the  many  speakers  I  met  during  my  ex- 
perience on  the  platform,  I  pleasurably  recall  the 
Hon.  George  Wendling,  a  man  of  great  amiability 
and  culture,  whose  lecture,  "The  Man  of  Galilee,'* 
was  a  masterpiece  of  correctly  studied  English. 
William  J.  Bryan,  so  many  times  the  unsuccessful 
candidate  for  the  Presidency  of  the  United  States, 


294   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

John  Temple  Graves,  broadminded,  eloquent  and 
impressive,  Senator  La  FoUette  of  Wisconsin, 
whose  addresses  were  mainly  political,  supported 
by  lengthy  extracts  from  the  Congressional  Rec- 
ord, Adam  Bede,  a  member  of  Congress,  a  very 
practical  man  with  a  fund  of  homely  humor,  Opie 
Reed,  author  of  a  number  of  charming  stories  of 
Southwestern  life,  whom  I  introduced  to  an  audi- 
ence at  Evansville,  Ind.,  and  I  think  with  justice, 
as  the  "Charles  Dickens  of  America,"  and  "Sun- 
shine" (I  have  forgotten  his  first  name)  Hawks,  a 
most  entertaining  little  gentleman  whose  ad- 
dresses were  filled  with  optimistic  philosophy  ex- 
ampled  by  entertaining  anecdotes  told  with  an 
ever  present  smile  that  captivated  his  audience 
and  justified  his  sobriquet. 

In  spite  of  many  attractive  conditions  of  the 
public  forum,  I  was  not  contented.  I  enjoyed  the 
mental  exhilaration  of  addressing  and  holding  the 
interest  of  large  audiences.  I  enjoyed  the  close 
association  with  the  people  that  the  Lyceum  and 
Chautauqua  platforms  afforded.  There  was  a  sat- 
isfaction in  convincing  the  intelligence  of  my  au- 
dience by  precept,  argument  and  logic,  but  I 
missed  the  strong  appeal  to  their  emotions  that  the 
drama  makes;  the  invisible  but  manifest  current 
of  sympathetic  attraction  that  the  actor  produces 
in  his  impersonation  of  character.  I  missed  the 
association  and  companionship  of  the  members  of 
my  company,  their  broad  sympathy,  their  opti- 
mism and  light-hearted  gaiety.  I  was  very  lonely. 

I  don't  think  I  fully  realized  the  complete  com- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   295 

panionship  that  exists  in  a  travelling  dramatic 
company  until  I  found  myself  compelled  to  take 
long  daily  journeys  alone.  Occasionally  I  would 
be  recognized  and  addressed  and  a  pleasant  con- 
versation would  follow;  but  it  was  the  exception, 
not  the  rule. 

Here  let  me  in  simple  justice  pay  a  long  de- 
layed but  deserved  tribute  to  my  fellow  artists— 
the  actors  of  the  stage— and  I  use  the  term  artists 
advisedly,  for  each  and  every  one  is  inspired  with 
the  art  instinct  from  the  first  moment  they  enter 
the  profession  and  that  instinct  is  fostered  by  as- 
sociation and  environment.  I  speak  now,  not  of 
the  stars  who  have  achieved  fame  and  fortune,  but 
of  the  rank  and  file  of  the  profession  whose  work 
is  so  essential  to  the  complete  artistic  entity  of  a 
performance— those  whom  I  have  described  in  the 
earlier  chapters  of  my  story  as  utility  men  and 
women,  walking  gentlemen,  ladies  in  waiting,  sec- 
ond old  men  and  women,  soubrettes,  comedi- 
ans, in  fact,  all.  They  who,  like  "The  man  who 
carries  the  gun,"  are  the  very  vital  and  important 
factors  in  the  play,  yet  whose  praises  and  accom- 
plishments go  often  unrecorded  and  unsung. 

It  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  travel  far  and 
wide,  to  meet  all  classes  of  men  and  women  in 
every  walk  of  life— yet  never  in  all  my  experience 
have  I  encountered  a  group  of  people  so  loyal,  so 
generous,  and  considerate  of  each  other,  so  im- 
bued with  the  principles  of  true  comradeship  as 
the  actors  and  actresses  of  both  the  English  and 
American  stage.    Their  sincerity  of  purpose  and 


296  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

worthy  endeavors  are  often  obscured  from  public 
appreciation  by  the  exploitation  of  their  lesser 
weaknesses  in  prose  and  verse,  cartoon  and  song 
by  cheap  wits,  who  for  lack  of  mind  and  matter, 
too  often,  hold  honest  men  and  women  up  to  ridi- 
cule, and  mislead  the  public  if  not  by  facts,  at  least 
by  suggestion  and  innuendo. 

The  itinerant  life  of  an  actor  precludes  the  ob- 
servance of  conventionalities  and  an  atmosphere 
of  Bohemianism  exists  amongst  them;  but  it  ema- 
nates from  a  source  that  is  founded  on  personal  es- 
teem with  a  full  appreciation  of  fundamental  du- 
ties and  mutual  obligations. 

True,  occasionally  little  jealousies  and  petty  dis- 
agreements will  arise,  such  as  are  common  in  all 
large  families,  but  beneath  the  surface  is  the  same 
affection  and  concordant  loyalty  that  exists  in 
family  relations. 

The  faith  of  the  actor  in  his  manager,  more  so 
perhaps  in  former  days  than  now,  was  almost 
childlike  in  its  simplicity. 

In  what  other  profession  or  calling  would  the 
people  engaged  in  it  go  weeks  without  receiving 
their  salary,  or  possibly  only  a  portion  of  it,  live 
at  inferior  hotels,  suffer  hardships  themselves  and 
deprive  their  families  of  adequate  support,  in  loy- 
alty to  a  manager  employer,  who  sometimes  proves 
unworthy  of  their  confidence  and  leaves  them 
stranded  in  a  strange  city  without  funds?  Hap- 
pily such  conditions  are  now  uncommon,  but  they 
have  occurred,  and  in  spite  of  past  experience  and 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   297 

the  safeguards  that  have  been  secured  for  their 
protection,  may  occur  again. 

Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  I  was  lonely  and 
missed  them  when  for  years  I  had  been  the  object 
of  their  respect  and  affection?  I  was  the  sharer 
of  their  labor,  their  hopes  and  ambitions,  **The 
Gov 'nor,'*  as  they  loved  to  call  me,  and  vied  with 
each  other  to  make  my  travel  pleasant  and  our 
work  effective. 

Under  these  circumstances  it  can  readily  be  un- 
derstood that  after  repeated  urgings  and  requests 
from  managers,  editors  and  personal  friends  to 
round  out  my  active  life  in  the  sphere  in  which  I 
had  begun  it,  I  finally  yielded  and  decided  to  re- 
turn to  the  stage. 

This  did  not  mean  that  I  should  abandon  the 
platform  entirely,  but  that  my  work  thereon 
should  be  subordinate  to  the  stage,  where  long  ex- 
perience, earnest  study  and  general  recognition 
justified  my  claim  to  be  called  "An  actor." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Close  of  the  Story. 

It  is  the  consensus  of  opinion  of  scholars  and 
critics  that  Timon  of  Athens  was  left  an  unfinished 
play  by  Shakespeare,  and  that  it  was  completed  by 
an  unknown  writer  or  writers  contemporary  with 
the  editors  of  the  first  complete  edition  of  the 
poet's  plays  and  published  in  the  year  1623,  seven 
years  after  Shakespeare's  death. 

Timon  of  Athens  has  been  produced  only  at  in- 
frequent intervals. 

During  my  engagement  at  the  Prince's  Thea- 
tre, Manchester,  England,  Mr.  Charles  Calvert 
made  quite  an  elaborate  production  of  the  play 
which  was  received  with  great  interest  by  his  pa- 
trons, though  I  cannot  assert  that  it  was  a  popular 
success. 

Mr.  Calvert  gave  such  a  splendid  performance 
of  the  princely  and  afterwards  misanthropic  Ti- 
mon, that  it  made  a  deep  impression  on  me.  I 
played  a  comparatively  small  part,  but  determined 
when  the  opportunity  came,  to  make  a  production 
of  the  play  and  act  the  part  of  Timon  myself. 

I  ascertained  that  Timon  had  not  been  acted  in 
this  country  for  more  than  seventy  years,  so  what 

298 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   299 

more  fitting  opportunity  would  present  itself  than 
my  return  to  the  stage  after  an  absence  of  some 
time  to  make  the  production  and  give  modern  au- 
diences an  opportunity  to  see  and  hear  a  perform- 
ance of  this  infrequently  acted  play. 

Following  Mr.  Calvert's  example,  I  reduced  the 
number  of  scenes,  concentrated  the  action  and  in- 
terpolated some  lines  to  clarify  the  motives  and 
arranged  an  appropriate  tableau  to  bring  the  play 
to  an  effective  conclusion.  After  careful  and  ade- 
quate rehearsals  I  produced  the  play  at  the  Fulton 
Opera  House,  Lancaster,  Pa. 

As  a  matter  of  interest  and  record  I  append  the 
programme  and  cast  of  the  first  performance. 

FULTON  OPERA  HOUSE, 

Lancaster,  Pa. 

Monday  evening,  Oct.  3,  1910. 

Engagement  of 

MR.  FREDERICK  WARDE 

Presenting  Wm.  Shakespeare's  Play 

"TIMON  OF  ATHENS" 

(A  Tragedy  in  Five  Acts) 


FREELY  ADAPTED,  arranged  for  modem  presen- 
tation, and  produced  under  the  direction  of  Frederick 
Warde. 

New  Scenery  by  P.  Dodd  Ackerman,  Valentine  and 
John  Young  Studios. 

Costumes  by  Miss  Textor. 

Properties  by  Joseph  Turner. 

The  pantomime  of  "The  Senses"  and  Greek  dance  in 


300   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

First  Act,  arranged  by  Miss  Atalanta  Nicolaides,  from 

authentic  sources. 

Timon,  a  Wealthy  Athenian Mr.  Frederick  Warde 

Lucius,         1  T     J        J  -m  i.  fMr.  Andrew  Rogers 

T       J  Lords,  and  Flat-  k-    t         u  t 

Lucullus,       I  .         '     „.  -i  Mr.  Leopold  Lane 

„  *       (  terers  of  Timon  |  __    ,  u    t  ■«    i 

Sempronius,  J  [Mr.  John  J.  Burke 

Ventidius,  one  of  Timon 's  false  friends 

Mr.  Wm.  Camithers 

Apemantus,  a  churlish  philosopher.  .Mr.  Ernest  Warde 

Flavins,  steward  to  Timon Mr.  Horace  Porter 

Flaminius  1  „.        ,  ^  fMr.  D.  C.  Percival 

_     ...         ITimon's  servants  -liut    -o  n  r*       ^ 

Lucihus     J  [Mr.  R.  C.  Carvel 

Alcibiades,  an  Athenian  General. .  .Mr.  Brigham  Royce 

An  Old  Athenian Mr.  H.  C.  Barton 

A  Poet Mr.  Arthur  E.  Hohl 

A  Painter Mr.  Holland  Hudson 

A  Merchant Mr.  R.  W.  Bruner 

A  Jeweler Mr.  Joseph  Kendal 

A  Senator  of  Athens Mr.  Joseph  Knudstone 

Two  Other  Senators .  .Messrs.  Wheatley  and  Meagerson 

Two  Thieves Messrs.  Fenton  and  Young 

Two  Strangers  in  Athens Messrs.  Bassill  and  Knight 

Servant  to  Ventidius Mr.  Henry  Travers 


Titus 

Hortensius 

Varro 

Lucius 

Isadore 


Servants  to  Timon 's 
Creditors 


Mr.  Bruner 
Mr.  Hohl 
Mr.  Burke 
Mr.  Kendall 
Mr.  G.  Bennett 


First  Soldier Mr.  Burnett 

Page Miss  Marie  Naskow 

Philotus Miss  Sylvia  Ratcliff 

Cupid Miss  Gerta  J.  Sutherland 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE    301 

Tmiandral„  .     ,     -.,.,.,         fMiss  Olive  Thome 
_,  ^Fnends  of  Alciabiades    -^  __.     _  ,     _..,^ 

Phryiua    J  [Miss  Helen  Hilton 

Ladies  of  Athens,  Dancers,  Guests  of  Timon,  etc.,  etc. 

SYNOPSIS  OF  SCENERY. 

ACT  1. 
Scene  1. — A  room  in  Timon 's  House  in  Athens. 
Scene  2. — Timon 's  Banquet  Hall. 

ACT  2. 
Scene  1. — Room  in  Timon 's  House. 
Scene  2. — A  street  in  Athens,  with  view  of  the  Acropo- 
lis. 
Scene  3. — Room  in  Timon 's  House,  as  before. 

ACT  3. 
Timon 's  Banquet  Hall. 

ACT  4. 
Scene  1. — Another  room  in  Timon 's  House. 
Scene  2. — The  woods  near  Athens.     Timon 's  Cave. 
(Summer.) 

ACT  5. 
The  woods  and  cave,  as  before.    (Late  Autumn.) 

The  performance  was  in  all  respects  admirable. 
The  company  played  their  parts  with  exceptional 
ability.  My  son  Ernest  realized  Apemantus,  the 
old  crabbed  philosopher  and  Mr.  Horace  Porter, 
Arthur  E.  Hohl  and  Leopold  Lane  gave  sterling 
performances  of  their  several  parts,  but  to  my 
great  disappointment  Timon  of  Athens  did  not 
arouse  the  interest  I  had  confidently  anticipated. 

The  public  admired  the  beauty  of  the  produc- 
tion but  could  find  no  sympathy  for  Timon,  who 
bestowed  his  wealth  so  foolishly. 


302   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

The  play  was  unfamiliar  to  the  Shakespeare 
clubs,  unknown  to  the  general  public  and  did  not 
attract  students  of  literature. 

As  an  instance  of  the  general  ignorance  of  the 
play:  an  acquaintance  met  me  with  the  greeting, 
"Well,  Warde,  I  see  you  have  a  southern  play  this 
season."  I  asked  his  meaning.  *  'Why,  Timon  of 
Athens,"  he  replied.  He  thought  the  play  was  lo- 
cated at  Athens  in  the  state  of  Georgia. 

An  intelligent  compositor  on  a  certain  news- 
paper set  up  the  title  of  the  play  in  the  advertise- 
ment as  "Timothy  of  Athens,"  and  so  it  appeared. 
He  evidently  thought  the  play  was  Irish. 

In  the  sanguine  hope  that  these  conditions  might 
improve,  I  continued  the  presentation  of  Timon 
for  several  weeks  at  a  great  financial  loss,  but 
finally  resolved  to  withdraw  it  and  substitute 
Julius  Csesar.  My  company  was  adequate  to  the 
cast  of  Csssar,  and  it  was  no  great  task  to  change 
the  Athenian  to  Roman  scenery:  so  the  streets  of 
Athens  became  the  streets  of  Rome  and  Timon's 
banqueting  hall  was  transformed  into  the  Senate 
House. 

My  son,  Ernest,  had  made  great  progress  in  his 
profession  and  I  entrusted  him  with  the  part  of 
Cassius.  He  more  than  justified  my  confidence. 
I  played  Brutus,  and  it  made  quite  an  unique  con- 
dition of  which  I  was  very  proud:  Father  and  son 
as  Brutus  and  Cassius. 

The  substitution  of  Julius  Caesar  for  Timon  of 
Athens  changed  the  aspect  of  affairs.  Csesar  is 
one  of  the  most  popular  of  Shakespeare's  plays, 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   303 

familiar  to  all,  giving  an  efficient  company  of 
actors  opportunities  to  appear  to  great  advantage. 
It  has  a  strong  appeal  in  its  magnitude  of  man- 
hood and  patriotic  sentiment:  and  our  tour  con- 
tinued with  gratifying  success  till  the  middle  of 
the  following  June,  completing  a  season  of  thirty- 
seven  weeks. 

Walter  Browne's  sjmibolic  play,  "Every- 
woman,"  had  been  produced  in  New  York  and 
achieved  a  great  success.  Mr.  Henry  W.  Savage 
desired  to  send  it  to  the  other  large  cities  of  the 
country  with  as  distinguished  a  cast  as  in  New 
York,  and  made  me  a  very  flattering  offer  to  play 
the  part  of  "Nobody."  I  hesitated  for  some  time 
as  I  was  then  in  the  West  and  had  no  opportunity 
to  see  the  play  or  learn  the  nature  of  the  part,  but 
on  my  return  to  New  York  and  after  witnessing 
the  performance,  I  accepted  the  invitation. 

It  was  a  most  satisfactory  and  delightful  en- 
gagement from  every  point  of  view.  My  associ- 
ates in  the  company  were  men  and  women  of  dis- 
tinction who  had  won  their  places  in  public  favor 
by  artistic  achievement  and  sustained  them  by 
conscientious  devotion  to  their  work,  notably: 
Miss  Marie  Wainwright,  who  played  the  part  of 
"Truth." 

Some  years  before— gallantry  forbids  me  to  say 
how  many— I  had  played  Romeo  to  the  lady's 
Juliet  on  her  professional  debut  at  Booth's  Thea- 
tre, New  York,  and  it  was  indeed  a  pleasure  to  be 
again  professionally  associated,  not  only  as  old 
and  valued  friends,  but  with  an  accomplished  ar- 


304   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELI;EVE 

tist  who  grasped  her  character  with  the  convinc- 
ing impress  of  cultured  intelligence  and  delivered 
her  lines  with  a  refined  enunciation  that  empha- 
sized their  significance  and  made  their  meaning 
clear. 

"Everywoman*'  was  played  by  a  delightful 
actress  and  a  charming  and  beautiful  woman,  Miss 
Jane  Oaker,  who  realized  both  in  appearance  and 
acting  the  ideal  of  the  author. 

A  pretty  little  lady,  Miss  Dorothy  Phillips, 
played  the  part  of  Modesty  With  a  dainty  grace 
that  was  irresistibly  attractive.  She  is  now 
prominently  featured  as  a  moving  picture  star, 
but  none  of  her  admirable  work  upon  the  screen 
can  eradicate  the  memory  of  the  sweet  simplicity 
of  her  acting  as  Modesty  in  "Every woman.'* 

Nestor  Lennon,  an  actor  of  sterling  ability  and 
ripe  experience,  played  "Wealth."  Mr.  Lennon 
has  since  passed  to  the  great  beyond;  but  his 
genial  personality,  pleasant  companionship  and 
unfailing  good  humor  is  still  a  gentle  memory. 

The  "Everywoman"  company  under  the  man- 
agement of  Mr.  Savage  was  one  of  the  most  com- 
plete and  perfectly  conducted  organizations  with 
which  I  had  ever  been  associated  and  our  entire^ 
tour  was  a  personal  and  professional  pleasure. 

A  deeply  pathetic  interest  attached  to  the  play. 
The  author,  Walter  Browne,  for  years  a  struggling 
journalist,  had  originally  written  the  play  as  a  sa- 
tirical burlesque.  It  had  been  submitted  to  and 
was  rejected  by  several  managers.  A  friend  in- 
duced him  to  reconstruct  it  in  a  serious  vein:  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   305 

result  was  a  symbolic  play  of  modem  human  life 
and  its  experiences  founded  on  the  plan  of  the  old 
Morality  plays. 

It  was  accepted,  produced  with  generous  elab- 
oration by  Mr.  Henry  W.  Savage  and  was  an  in- 
stantaneous success:  but  as  the  sound  of  the  ap- 
plause of  the  audience,  confirming  that  fact,  filled 
the  theatre,  the  mortal  spirit  of  Walter  Browne 
passed  away  at  his  home,  and  he  died  in  ignorance 
of  the  triumph  he  had  achieved. 

It  is,  however,  a  pleasure  to  record  that  through 
the  generosity  of  Mr.  Savage,  his  surviving  family 
still  enjoy  the  substantial  results  of  his  work. 

Moving  pictures  had  become  a  very  popular 
form  of  public  entertainment  and  many  prominent 
actors  had  followed  the  example  of  Madame  Sarah 
Bernhardt  and  acted  plays  in  which  they  had  ap- 
peared, before  the  camera. 

A  company  had  been  incorporated  to  present 
Shakespeare's  tragedy  of  Richard  the  Third  in 
pictures  and  I  was  selected  to  play  the  Duke  of 
Gloster. 

Richard  the  Third  had  been  one  of  the  popular 
plays  in  my  repertoire  for  many  years.  I  had 
played  Gloster  frequently  and  the  idea  of  record- 
ing it  by  moving  photography  interested  me 
greatly. 

An  unoccupied  estate  on  City  Island,  New  York, 
was  the  location  of  our  labors.  There  the  Tower 
of  London,  Guildhall  and  other  historic  buildings 
were  reproduced,  and  the  charming  landscapes  of 


306   FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE 

Westchester  County  served  as  the  green  fields  of 
midland  England. 

I  found  the  action  of  the  camera  necessitated  en- 
tirely different  methods  of  acting  from  the  stage. 
Spontaneity  must  be  replaced  by  deliberation  and 
concentrated  expression  take  the  place  of  words. 
I  had  much  to  learn  and  considerable  to  unlearn 
but  the  director  and  photographer  were  very  con- 
siderate, although  my  ignorance  of  the  necessities 
of  the  camera  must  have  tried  their  patience  al- 
most to  the  limit. 

Many  vexatious  yet  humorous  incidents  oc- 
curred. A  picture  of  Gloster's  ride  from  Tewkes- 
bury to  London  was  required.  Most  of  the  roads 
in  Westchester  county  are  flanked  by  telegraph 
and  telephone  poles.  That  would  not  do  for  Eng- 
land in  the  fifteenth  century,  but  our  director  dis- 
covered a  lane  that  had  not  been  disfigured  by 
modern  utilities,  and  would  serve  the  purpose.  A 
negative  was  taken,  but  a  refractory  horse  made 
several  retakes  necessary;  however,  we  finally  se- 
cured a  very  good  picture  only  to  find  on  examina- 
tion, a  modern  nursemaid  wheeling  a  baby  car- 
riage, with  two  small  children,  had  come  into  the 
background  unseen  by  the  director  but  largely  in 
evidence  on  the  screen. 

In  spite  of  many  discouraging  conditions,  the 
picture  was  completed  and  my  first  appearance  in 
moving  pictures  was  voted  a  success. 

An  Orientally  beautiful  and  picturesque  comedy 
called,  *'A  Thousand  Years  Ago,"  by  Percy 
Mackaye,  a  poet  of  distinction,  and  a  son  of  the 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE   307 

late  Steele  Mackaye,  was  produced  in  New  York 
and  ran  for  some  weeks.  It  was  a  very  unique  and 
artistic  production.  I  played  the  Emperor  of 
China,  and  accompanied  the  play  to  Providence, 
Boston,  Albany  and  Philadelphia.  Miss  Rita  Joli- 
vet,  Mr.  Cooper  Cliffe,  Jerome  Patrick  and  Franlj: 
McCormack  were  in  the  cast.  The  attendance, 
however,  was  not  in  proportion  to  the  heavy  ex- 
pense of  the  production  and  the  play  was  discon- 
tinued. 

The  moving  picture  industry  was  growing  rap- 
idly. Mr.  Edwin  Thanhouser,  president  of  the 
Thanhouser  Film  corporation  of  New  Rochelle, 
made  me  the  offer  of  a  year's  engagement  to  ap- 
pear in  a  number  of  pictures  under  the  direction  of 
my  son,  who  had  become  quite  an  efficient  director. 
The  offer  was  liberal,  the  association  exceedingly 
pleasant  and  the  results  very  satisfactory. 

We  made  pictures  of  Shakespeare's  tragedy  of 
King  Lear,  George  Eliot's  novel  of  Silas  Marner, 
Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wakefield  and  several  mod- 
em subjects,  all  of  which  were  popular  successes. 
The  leading  characters  gave  me  an  opportunity  to 
utilize  the  experience  of  so  many  years  upon  the 
stage,  while  the  liberality  of  the  management  and 
skill  of  the  director  enabled  me  to  appear  at  the 
best  advantage,  and  the  work  that  at  first  was  not 
entirely  to  my  liking  became  agreeable  as  the  pos- 
sibilities of  the  camera  became  apparent. 

America's  interest  in  the  European  war  had  de- 
veloped a  large  number  of  plays  on  the  subject. 
Among   them    a    comedy-drama    called    "Over 


308  FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVB 

There."  It  had  quite  a  run  in  New  York  and  was 
then  sent  "en  tour"  with  an  advertised  quin- 
tette of  stars:— Miss  Mary  Shaw,  Miss  Pauline 
Lord,  Miss  Amelia  Bingham,  Mr.  Thomas  W. 
Ross  and  myself.  Our  tour  took  us  to  the  South, 
where  we  met  with  great  success  until  we  were 
halted  by  the  epidemic  of  Spanish  influenza  and  all 
theatres  and  places  of  public  assemblage  were 
closed.  We  were  practically  quarantined  in  San 
Antonio,  Texas,  for  four  weeks  until  the  theatres 
were  permitted  to  reopen.  Then  we  resumed  our 
tour,  but  shortly  thereafter  the  armistice  was  de- 
clared, the  war  was  won  and  our  play  had  no 
longer  any  significance  and  we  closed  the  season. 

Finding  myself  at  liberty  I  decided  to  gratify  a 
desire  to  again  visit  California.  Mrs.  Warde  and 
I  went  to  Los  Angeles,  where  we  had  many  warm 
and  sincere  friends. 

I  had  scarcely  arrived  and  my  presence  in  the 
city  become  known  when  I  was  approached  by  a 
representative  of  John  McGroarty,  author  of  "The 
Mission  Play,"  and  invited  to  appear  as  Junipero 
Serra  in  the  forthcoming  annual  production  at 
San  Gabriel. 

"The  Mission  Play"  is  a  dramatized  story  of 
the  early  settlement  of  California  by  the  Francis- 
can Fathers  from  Mexico;  their  struggles  and  suf- 
ferings, the  establishment  of  the  Missions,  the  con- 
version of  the  Indians  and  the  development  of  the 
country  from  San  Francisco  to  the  Mexican  bor- 
der. The  author,  John  McGroarty,  is  a  journalist 
a.nd  a  poet;  a  man  of  sincere  faith  and  firm  convic- 


FIFTY  YEARS  OF  MAKE-BELIEVE  309 

tions  that  are  expressed  with  beauty  and  imagina- 
tion. His  heart  and  soul  are  reflected  in  ''The 
Mission  Play."  I  do  not  think  I  ever  read  a 
manuscript  that  made  such  a  deep  impression 
upon  me  as  this  simple,  unconventional,  dramatic 
composition. 

The  supreme  dignity  of  a  spiritual  purpose  that 
dominates  physical  weakness  and  overcomes  mate- 
rial obstacles  is  woven  into  a  picturesque  histor- 
ical romance  that  awakens  the  interest,  exalts  the 
imagination  and  gratifies  the  senses  by  the  beauty 
of  its  environment. 

The  part  of  Junipero  Serra  appealed  to  me  with 
a  force  I  had  not  felt  since  I  studied  the  charac- 
ter of  King  Lear,  and  I  eagerly  grasped  the  oppor- 
tunity to  vitalize  into  being  this  great  priest,  hero 
and  martyr. 

The  character  is  so  completely  sympathetic  and 
fuU  of  dramatic  possibilities  there  is  little  credit 
due  for  my  success,  but  I  will  confess  that  I  felt 
particularly  gratified  when  John  McGroarty  pub- 
licly announced  that  when  he  was  writing  the  play 
I  was  in  his  mind  for  the  part. 

"The  Mission  Play'*  is  an  annual  production. 
In  1919  it  ran  for  fifteen  consecutive  weeks.  It  is 
acted  in  the  unique  and  picturesque  Mission  Play 
House,  especially  constructed  for  the  purpose  in 
the  very  shadow  of  the  old  San  Gabriel  Mission, 
on  ground  where  the  sandaled  feet  of  the  old 
Franciscan  Fathers  often  trod. 

The  bells  they  hung  one  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago  in  the  Mission  belfry  are  still  there  and  call 


310   FIFTY  YEARS  OP  MAKE-BELIEVE 

the  worshipers  to  Matins  and  to  Vespers  as  the 
story  of  their  lives  and  work  is  presented  by  mod- 
ern actors  to  modem  visitors  by  the  art  of  paint- 
ing, the  beauty  of  poetry  and  the  power  of  the 
greatest  of  all  arts,  the  drama. 

•         •••••• 

And  this  brings  us  down  to  the  present  day 
through  "Fifty  Years  of  Make  Believe." 

I  have  used  the  personal  pronoun  so  frequently 
in  the  preceding  pages  that  it  is  with  some  hesita- 
tion I  resume  it  in  a  parting  word. 

I  have  told  the  story  in  my  own  way.  The  ob- 
ject has  been  to  gratify  the  expressed  wish  of 
many  friends.  Of  my  success  they,  and  you,  my 
friend  the  reader,  must  be  the  judges. 

It  is  a  plain  unvarnished  tale  of  a  life's  drama 
that  happily  is  not  yet  ended.  New  scenes  will  be 
set,  new  incidents  occur  and  new  characters  ap- 
pear before  the  last  word  is  spoken  and  the  final 
curtain  falls. 

So,  good  friend,  as  we  have  come  so  far  together, 
for  fifty  years  is  quite  a  lengthy  journey— even  in 
the  land  of  so-called  Make-Believe — let  us  not  end 
our  friendship  here. 

If  Summer's  gone  there  still  are  many  Autumn 
days  before  the  snows  of  Winter  fall. 

On  Autumn  evenings  golden  sunsets  glow  and 
waken  memories  that  renew  the  joys  of  Spring. 

Then  let  our  parting  be  as  on  an  Autumn  eve,— 
a  memory  to  be  cherished  until  we  meet  again. 


The  Romance  of 

American  Petroleum 

and  Gas 


First   Volume   Completed 
Second  Volume  on  the  Press 
Third  Volume  in  Preparation 


The  Standard  work  on  the  Great  American 
Oil  Fields  and  of  the  Outstanding  Figures 
in  the  Industry. 

An  interesting  History  of  the  Nation's 
most  Fascinating  and  Profitable  Product. 

Of  particular  interest  to  Oil-men,  Scien- 
tists, Libraries  and  the  Press. 


ROMANCE  OF  AMERICAN  PETRO- 
LEUM AND  GAS  COMPANY 

(M.  M.  Marcy,   Manager) 
TRIBUNE    BUILDING,  NEW  YORK    CITY. 


The 
Story  of  Electricity 


The  distinguished   electrical  journalists, 

T.  Commerford  Martin 
and  Stephen  L.  Coles 

have  each  spent  a  quarter  of  a  century 
in  this  field  of  literary  work. 

The  Story  of  Electricity,  the  first 
volume  of  which  is  now  complete,  is  a 
product  of  their  combined  experiences, 
as  well  as  a  number  of  other  able  writers. 

The  work  is  a  practical  history  of  the 
science  of  electricity  and  of  the  famous 
men  and  pioneers  in  that  field. 

Six  hundred  pages  of  type  and  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  full  page  plates. 


Electrical  Men,  Scientists  and  Libraries 
will  find  it  of  much  value. 


THE  STORY  OF  ELECTRICITY  CO. 

(M.  M.  Marcy,  Manager) 
TRIBUNE    BUILDING.  NEW  YORK   CITY. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

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